We all bleed for
different reasons
White sneakers turned
red from too many crooked paths
Sipping coffee in a
diner because it’s safer
That going to
breakfast elsewhere
Chatter filling the
gaps in the unknown
Ring of cash register
in the corner
Struggling to figure
out what comes next
After the unfinished
meal,
What was the intent of
all this
Not love or hate,
Something more subtle,
A quick trip in and
out,
No regrets?
Banter on the street,
connections
Unrealistic belief
that walking and talking
Leads to something
real,
no quick trip this, no
working things out,
just sun light
spilling over the ground before and after
like spilled blood
left from dull edge of the butter
knife jabbing into us
both,
red dripping down
inside both as we stroll
along the sidewalk
friendship made, and
later lost
working it out with
someone else,
life is a kitchen sink
filled with soiled details,
bits of our lives
following down the drain
worked out in pain and
illusion
almost always related
to in some distant way
details spilled out in
text like blood
should not be telling
you this
how much it hurt,
stabbing pains
doesn’t mean anything,
except to me,
blood still dripping
out of me
with the imprint of my
sneaker
leaving me suspicious of every stranger
every smile
every touch of hand
that isn’t mine,
working it all out somewhere else
when I’m not around,
filling the space loneliness leaves,
even bartenders seeming a threat
a business card relationship
that seems more than it is
after a few glasses,
shattered pieces of
wine in my chest
as well as yours,
things always good,
always bad
as long as who knows who
gets to choose
where and when
and how to work it out.
Fleeing out to the dark
Street, staggering with the impact
Hoping to get up the hill
Before the blood flow ends,
My roof too short for a long fall
So I have to settle for the Palisades
Never knowing
How I can work it out
Before I go splat at the bottom
Bleeding inside and out
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