Poem

Showing your Attention

Last night, we were virgins.
I remember waiting.
You said you might forget to call,

and that I should be the one making calls.
So I rang your phone today,
angry enough to tell you
this was not a friendship I could take
and still feel human.

I remember driving past your house
intent on never stopping there,
but cheap corncob pipes
and all the smoke we've blown
and how you look
when you're not looking
made me want to stand
on your front lawn
and blow you a kiss.

I never smiled
at half open doors.
I only cried
wishing yours would keep out the light
peering over a mausoleum.

I remember driving past your blood,
a strangled car,
and thinking,
how could anyone survive that mess?
not knowing it was you wrapped in glass
shivering in velvet walls,
surrounded by the confusion
of rainbows
and lasers.

Driving past your blood,
I felt the need to cross the lights
and the army,
black, badged and orange;
to lean and hug the bodies.

I remember driving past your blood,
not knowing it was you inside.
Not knowing that the driver
who'd done this;
steered you from my path
in some other accident,
had half his body broken now
trapped inside a ball of engine,
ignorant of pain;
I never heard him screaming
out of fear that he'd killed you,

But it was you
unsmiling in a confetti windshield
and I was too busy making an enemy,
to realize you, my friend,
were somewhere dying,
wanting me.

I remember when I'd first heard,
driving to your side
and how I thought that you deserved company, but nothing more, and here I sit.

You lie in the bed I'd wished for you in anger.
I'll lay in the one I wished for you in smoke,
and somehow,
I can't feel sorry for you;

I never meant this curse,
but now you want me to stay
when my love and youth are shaken,
and yours are with him
soaking the field beside the highway

You,
a girl,
an old woman
hoarding purple in her eyes
your face dies
sucking gray,
telling your stories for you now,
frozen in what you've left me with;
a lonely sleep.

Elusive, passive, fleeting being;
you smiled a rose,
and now I bleed.
I stay because I am your friend;
your pain allows a decent man's forgiveness,
but doesn't help me overcome a damn thing.

I cannot ask you questions here,
or tell your dying face,
Ours is not a friendship I can take
and still feel human.
I sit
in silence
while you show as much attention
as you ever have.