“It’s life, you know? Just… Life…”
the shrug of his shoulders
not quite a man’s
the tilt of his head
not quite a boy’s
“I mean, it happens… It happened… Shit happens…”
it does
indeed
it does
and it is
shit
when, at seventeen
your father,
your Father,
disintegrates
dissolves
diseased
beyond any
hope
of recognition,
leaving you
alone
apart
separated
by more than
just
the red hair,
that red hair,
the red hair
which is
all
he has left to
you
“So, I did some drugs… took some shit…a lot of shit, I guess… I mean, I had never done that, you know? I’d never been like that… I was always, well, “The Leader”… always the one they looked up to and shit… Then all of a sudden I wasn’t… I wasn’t at all… but I didn’t care… I mean, I just didn’t give a damn, you know?”’
his milk-hands,
nails bitten to the quick,
clung one to the other
refusing to relinquish their
determined
hold
on what
remained
of his world
“Ok, yeah… I can come back… maybe it’ll do some good… I don’t know… maybe it won’t… doesn’t matter really, I guess … I mean it’s not like I’ve gotta lotta better shit to do…”
six-feet-three-inches of
Hug me.
Please.
Hold me.
Please.
stood slowly,
curling in upon itself,
turning into a softened
hand
shake
that walked, head
down,
out the door
©s rogers, 9th April 2011
