Violet B Knows You

How fun would be that be?

I’d be here,

You’d be here

And not there

We don’t see her, you know We don’t walk her talk her Bake her in a pie We don’t grab at rocks Fill ‘em in our socks We don’t do these things

And if we did do these things It wouldn’t be to her It would never occur to her That the pain from us Came from us

But, eventually, a thought about Mom creeps in. In that hospital bed on a constant chain of saline solution and morphine as the cancer won. Her eyes glazed over, barely able to see us timidly at the foot of her bed as Dad held her limp hand and wept.

This was the end of the best person I had known.

This was the result of a good life.

And when I think of that, I cancel plans on my Match.com Mama’s boy and go out. Go out like tomorrow doesn’t have any promise.

I could drive through the night-- cover the distance from me to you. I could swill and sweat coffee I could scream love songs every one knows but I only half know  and chip away mile markers-- each a scathing rebuttal to your “How the hell did we go wrong?”

And when dawn vomits streams of unyielding light, stabbing at your boarded up windows, your unfettered lawn your bashed in front door I’ll know at last.  Finally.  Thank god. That the answer wasn’t 

I thought I’d be happy

when others finally 

heard my voice.

Today I’m alone

and ecstactic

because I finally