Monday, August 17, 2009


I’m writing this to remind you
when I’m fat
an old
and have given it all up
I’ll think of this moment
this exact moment
sitting up here in my attic room
137 High Street Apt C
Portsmouth, NH 03801
on the fifth day in August
the year of 2009
half past ten
I’ll think back and remember
me sitting here
sweating in the night
a pair of cut off jean shorts
covering my ass
my thick, curly brown hair
growing wild from my head
these cheap beers my companions
who come and go
like the moments of my clarity
I’ll think of the sand
on the soles of my feet
and the burrito still in my gut
the dogs that supported me through this
and the family and friends
who didn’t try to stop me
I’ll think of the girls I loved
the ones who might have married me
had I been insane enough
for that institution
I’ll think of the road
that was always calling my name
sometimes whispering
sometimes screaming
and I’ll think of the flickering light
the fluttering flag
the insects crawling across the computer screen
I’ll remember writing this poem
to remind myself
that whether driven mad
by whiskey or women
or sitting cross legged
under the forgiving gaze of a living saint
whether on some yacht in the south pacific
or in the drunk tank or the sheep fields
hungry and thirsty
broke or rich
whether basking in glory
or rotting in the gutter
I’ll only be living
just living and passing through
the various stages of life
in a world forever changing

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