Hearts & Bones
by Richard Vince
Some days I find myself living
A thousand different lives all at once,
As though each adolescent possibility
Somehow made it to adulthood.
In one reality, perhaps I could have
Loved her; hers could have been
The ribcage behind which I deposited
My deceptively vulnerable heart;
Hers could have been the smile
That welcomes me home.
There are cities that I never got around
To visiting, but that seemed so serious,
So possible, once upon a lifetime.
Finally, I would know the true meaning
Of sweat, of prejudice, of individualism,
Of inequality. Now, they are but
Half remembered dreams, jockeying for position
In a head full of too many memories.
Now, it is a destination of disdain, a magnet
That only the weak fail to resist, but
Could it have been my home too?
When I am so tired that my bones
Double in weight, I feel like a teenager.
I allow myself merely to drift to
Wherever the current will keep me afloat.
It is as if there is time, but I am
Pouring it down a thousand different
Drains, watching all of the imagined
Possibilities following it into oblivion,
Remembering each as though it really
Posted on 08/26/2014
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