It seems that the harder I work to let go of my past, the more determined it becomes to hunt me down. I spent a good 45 minutes yesterday looking for parking last night in the Haight, where I was forced to circle past this window on Fillmore. Even though I have now been separated from my ex-wife for a year and a half, and our wedding was in 2009, there is still this photo of her from our wedding displayed prominently in the photographer’s window. So I guess the question is now, how do I integrate my past into my current state, do I want to, and am I even ready for that? Regardless of what I choose, I know the less than glamorous parts of my history are always lurking just around the corner…
Meeting you was like a punch to the chest.
A hemorrhage of emotion I was never prepared to address.
“You want to be friends?” I said
Your reply, “yes.”
We fell in love without ever touching,
Only feeling the tension of wanting…
You think that would make for a strong foundation,
at least a less confusing situation.
That was not the case of these two…
… pieces, meeting through empty space.
Failed attempts of unwanted compromises,
trying, to fit that pesky square peg, into an unyielding round hole.
I think about that day in July,
that day when we had one hell of a party.
We took out next steps to a new life.
Stood in front of our friends, and whatever authority,
and promised, more…
…more than you could ever give.
It’s a shame you didn’t stick around to see the man that I’d become,
That you ran like a scared little girl,
selfish and totally alone,
into the arms of your next waiting host-
and, I don’t want to boast,
but my life is pretty awesome,
and I find the phrase:
“dodged a bullet,”
comes up pretty often,
… about you
…so sick of passing these out just to watch you set them ablaze.
This could (and would) exist only in California, people down here know better…
Eros at Play by Kris Kuksi,
Mixed media assemblage