beach
every part of me wants to make this right except one, and this time around i'm listening. six years ago i saw myself in these birds scavenging whining moving on. today i am this broken bird damaged silent alone, dragging a broken wing, watching in disbelief confusion as the other birds move on. you saw that broken wing and i... i never saw it coming. i made my peace with these breaks i must carry, and i will not be broken by you. i drag my wing across the sand moving on.
my entire life always comes back to this place this beach these grains of sand has the silhouette of the palm trees changed? have i? the beach is washing away and i feel compelled to let it take part of me with it i belong to this beach as much as it belongs to me but they built a wall around it so the beach is without its own name, identity and so am i
i squeezed a little harder, thinking i could choke you off in this anger, but found nothing remained. what had i been holding on to all this time? and how long had my hands been empty? i thought we had been alone but when i lifted my head you were nowhere to be found. just a sea of faces and i find i am only 17, consumed with a self-centered paranoia, and i think their whole ocean will come crashing in on me. just as quickly i close my eyes and forget even those faces which offered everything and would receive nothing in return. later i would say there was this girl. there was this boy. and everything they had offered would be reduced to a sex. all i had seen was that vast ocean and even in my best moments i could never bring a face into focus.
let me go back to another time, another day, and start over. there have been too many tears, at twenty-three my well is running dry. too many loves, too many introductions, good-byes, too much packing, unpacking, too many memories in storage. there are too many unread books, unplayed c.d.s, pictures in boxes, too many faces i remember only when reminded. too many numbers: 714. 949. 805. 661. 219. 317. she doesn't live here anymore. change of address, times sixteen. and who could keep up? maybe that was the point. and while i may have been sincere, i shorted every one along the way. i was looking in so many directions, my mind racing with so many thoughts, you could be two feet to my right, or two thousand miles to my left, and i would still be in a world of make-believe, where
i don't even want to save the world anymore i've wasted enough time trying to save myself and after the last sleepless night the circles under my eyes have more clarity than the beliefs i once held i want endless nights of sleep meaningless days the world can save itself will anyone ever care if i can present a cohesive argument relating human nature and democracy? who will ever listen if i contend that a worker in colombia is as deserving as one in america i want to sit and lose myself in the crashing of the waves
it’s amazing how far you can see the glistening sun reflect off each little wave i’m watching from my room and it looks like i could see forever but i’ve learned that forever is deceiving it’s a promise that can’t be kept