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grandstanding
by Gabriel RicardNobody knows me anymore,
and nobody wants to make the leap
that one time,
we might have been important to each other.
And that it might have even been
a purely unselfish thing.
Let me sweat the small stuff.
Don’t worry, weird papa.
Don’t sigh, bored mamma.
I’ll just leave this quiet disaster in peace.
This time of the day
the only moonlight that can found
exists in thinking the past and future
are one and the same. That it’s okay to believe
nostalgia is warmer than a kiss or a handshake.
I’m not going to trust felony assault from headlights.
Turn those damn things off. There’s light enough
for every half-hearted destination under the bad-tempered sun.
I’d take a cab if I could finally defy expectations.
I would have just stayed home,
but peace, quiet and napkin journals can destroy my constitution
a lot faster than blinking at a four-lane intersection.
Four distinct levels of Hell on a sophisticated earth.
Four completely different theories on the jail term I deserve.
I’m not going to be rendered speechless and realistic
that toss around and bump my psyche
in what still feels like the night.
Judge not.
That’s it.
I’m not the worst thing you’ve ever seen.
Someone out there has a worse haircut.
Someone nearby has probably quit the business of passion.
Leave me to talk to myself.
It’s the best way to get around the fact
that these streets are alive with Lewis Carroll street signs
and establishments that are too broke for reasonable hours.
Even if I just mumble along to broken headphones
I’m at least going to know I’m still alive.
This doesn’t hurt a single cheerful falsehood.
But if it did,
I don’t think anyone would tape quarters
to their palms, pull me aside
and slap some delicacy back into my cheekbones.
Whatever I did that one time
it must have been pretty bad.
No one’s speaking to me.
I’m leaving this crowd under protest
but on my own,
and I can’t even get a harsh word
from the girls who keep their legs in great shape
by wearing their fishnets in February.
01/12/2012 Posted on 01/12/2012
Copyright © 2024 Gabriel Ricard
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Clara Mae Gregory on 01/12/12 at 11:49 PM I really love that last line the best....enjoyed reading this....good stuff....thank you |
| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 01/13/12 at 12:36 AM I so relate with this. It's even more incredibly written than others of yours (if that's possible).
I am reminded of Duff Mckagan's words, "You can't hug a memory".
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| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 01/13/12 at 03:25 PM Illuminating stuff, made all the more powerful, disturbing, having been written in the 1st person. I especially like this part (one of my own philosophies): This time of the day
the only moonlight that can found
exists in thinking the past and future
are one and the same. And this nicely captures the inner turmoil: I’m not the worst thing you’ve ever seen.
Someone out there has a worse haircut.
Someone nearby has probably quit the business of passion.
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| Posted by Lori Blair on 01/16/12 at 12:49 AM and my soul just wishes to keep on reading..don't you ever stop my friend!!!hugs!!! |
| Posted by Meghan Helmich on 01/19/12 at 04:22 PM Lovely. |
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