06/17/17

The Limited Perks

 
 
 
on the rooftop on Dearborn
with the sun setting slowly behind us
and all the light coming through the awnings
and lattice-work
the wooden deck aswirl with color
unidentifiable shapes, like they all are,
pink and green and blue
yellow
we say hellos and collect drinks
we stand at the table, invited but separated
trying to enjoy the limited perks of the Press

“Obviously, I want you to go with me.”
I won’t/can’t/mustn’t accept
the tour offered alone
that’d be too easy
I’m too wander-prone,
which you know, and like me anyway
which I don’t understand

as the other side of the party
turns to dancing and 90s music
my heart is, like they say, on my sleeve

coming out at the wrist

my propped up posture holding an empty can
with both hands in the center of the table
you knew right where to touch to
stop the bleeding

“I’m sorry you’re going through this.”

which is a lot

it’s a lot to say, I mean
like a salve made of syllables for me
saying forged from listening

my small word:
“thanks”
but in fact:
what a lucky friend I am to have a friend
like you
only, it didn’t come out that way