Month: August 2016

A song sings itself

The early morning warmth

is easy

and does not betray

the heat we’ve been promised

later. 

I’m using fourth Avenue

to bisect

the city

into manageable chunks. 

The windows are down, 

but the A/C runs, 

for contrast. 

I sing along

to Cat Stevens

and James Blunt, 

lowering my voice

at the stop lights. 

I’m not always

quiet enough, 

however,

and I am overheard. 

Twice I see

bobbing heads

and knowing smiles, 

gestures of approval

or 

understanding. 

My voice is not trained, 

and I do little justice

to the songs, 

but the audience is impressed

nevertheless. 

It’s Friday. 

Choke

I think a lot,

which is to say

often, 

about how frozen

I am. 

Inaction

has become

an addiction. 

But that’s

a lie. 

I can tell it

to myself

and buy in, 

but I cannot slip it 

past you. 

You’d sniff it out. 

People I admire

talk of taking the chance, 

grabbing your desires, 

putting in the time

towards what you want…

and I shame myself

by doing nothing. 

I know

that they speak

the truest

of truths. 

But I know

only the frozen

and trapped.

To want freedom

and be locked up

by my own key…

it’s suicide

but I keep

passing out

and losing the grip

on my own neck. 

So every day

I renew the squeeze

one

more

time.