Home

give yourself up

by Gabriel Ricard

He thought he had seen him walk on water that night,
but there was still blood in his eyes,
from losing an argument over how many times
the sun had set in the past two hours.

Too much fluid filling up his lungs
from thinking his long-lost fiancé
had breezed back into town for a rock and roll show.

Who the hell goes to rock and roll shows anymore?
You might as well write notes of apology by hand.

May as well pay for a dance with cash.

He thinks he’d be better off promising girls
old enough, smart enough to wait until the middle
to reveal their heartfelt belief that a true assassin laughs on the inside.

Middle of the night.
Middle of a shotgun wedding on a beach filled with cannon balls.
Middle of a conversation that started off with real promise.

Sweat drops from his eyebrows as though lighting up
the sleazy signs that point to confession. He feels sick to his stomach,
but he sings along the music blaring from room 208 anyway.

It’s country music,
but the outlaws singing about what they did
when all the howling bravado left them hanging from a clothesline
sounds tinny and muddled. He thinks it sounds the way the fat man
diving into the pool looks.

It’s not country music.
It’s the boys on the second floor
waiting for the levees to break,
and they’re not going to stop singing
until they feel like everyone has listened.

These guys aren’t dammed.
No one is. They’re just drunks.
The pool water is just filthy.
The girls are just lonely, getting older.
The fat man is just dying of something
terrible he did fifteen years ago.

Everything is as okay as it was
when the music was loud and pretty lively.

He burns his fingers on the chain-link fence.
He takes off his jacket, closes his eyes
and decides to remain whole for another hour.

He reaches out,
takes the first hand that doesn’t slap
the taste out of his mouth
and just starts to move.

Sparks from some preordained location
may as well be snowflakes.


09/14/2012

Posted on 09/14/2012
Copyright © 2024 Gabriel Ricard

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 09/14/12 at 05:56 PM

If I were you I'd consider this an instant classic among your writings (imho). There is so much here, yet it hangs together tightly. And that final line is nothing short of sardanapalian! Thanks.

Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 09/15/12 at 03:24 AM

Yes, this is a pleasure to dive into and digest. Many great, great lines. And now I have to go look up "sardanapalian". :)

Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 09/15/12 at 12:17 PM

what I gather from these stanzas is that you are always on the ball, if not on the chain, always on the lookout, if not the prowl. ultimately all these stanzas howl enchantment in my ear.

Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 09/15/12 at 04:39 PM

Yes, I agree with the others. Reminds me of so many movies, where an ageing child or teen of the 1950s has had his or her day, and now just a sad reminder of the past. For whatever reason, maybe the country and/or rock & roll music, but I see an over weight, barely alive Elvis pumping gas at the the local station. Maybe Elvis didn't leave the building after all. I especially like these lines: Who the hell goes to rock and roll shows anymore? You might as well write notes of apology by hand. May as well pay for a dance with cash.

Posted by Ken Harnisch on 09/18/12 at 10:20 PM

Once again..and how redundant this is: a smorgasbord of originality and creativity!

Posted by George Hoerner on 09/19/12 at 07:07 PM

Well I obviously missed this one. Another great write Gabe.

Posted by Bertram Sparagmos on 09/21/12 at 03:46 PM

Covers a very wide scope of human experience. This is a new favorite of mine.

Posted by W. Mahlon Purdin on 09/22/12 at 04:12 PM

Gabriel, I followed a link back here again. I rated (if that's the correct word and I doubt it is) this poem as highly as they would let me. I thought I should tell JD he needs a higher rating urgently. An amazing poem of insight and humor that lives on long after one turns the page.

Return to the Previous Page
 

pathetic.org Version 7.3.2 May 2004 Terms and Conditions of Use 0 member(s) and 2 visitor(s) online
All works Copyright © 2024 their respective authors. Page Generated In 0 Second(s)