I’m Your Best Shot At Love, Baby

As thoughts go,
I was miniscule at first,
a germ of an idea
in one malignant synapse
firing wildly.

“There’s the bridge, there’s the abutment,
you’ve got the car, consider
the possibilities –”  And right away you tamped me down
like a piece of garbage just barely too large to fit
into the bag the rest of your garbage was in,
but like a paper cup that won’t stay crushed,
I forgave you, reshaped myself, and stuck around.

It’s been fun and games since then, hasn’t it?
I wouldn’t have missed it for the end of the world.
You tell yourself I’m just a product of chemical tilt
and I tell you how you could right that in a second.
We tango, we party, we bullshit, we know each other
very well.  I push your eyes to the knife
in the nightstand, you slip me a drink or a pill
and I settle down for a little while until
the storm or the money or the latest fight with family
gives me an opening to suggest that a gun
isn’t that hard to get, you know the right people
for that, and if all else fails there’s always the roof,
or the car, there’s always the car and a bridge — I’ve got a list
of them, how you could make the skid look accidental,
which rails look the most rusted and ready to break,
how the long fall to the river below would guarantee
a minimum of lingering pain. 

But you stubbornly stick around and treat me like dirt.
I can’t blame you. I’m a terrible flirt
and I know I drive you crazy — but still,
there’s something in the way you always come back to listen…

so take me into your ruined confidence for real tonight.  Let me whisper
the good things I can do for you — how I’ll buck you up
and cuddle you as we finally do what I want for a change.
You know I was born to love you, all those years ago
in the moment I told you it was OK to listen to me
and you did.  If only for a second, listen to me again
and then show me how you love me.  I’ve only ever had
your best interests at heart, and when I say “it’ll be over
in moments and whoever’s left to clean it up
will get over it eventually,” I’m not being selfish.
I’m just telling the truth.  They’ll forget you after a while
in a way I never have, never could, never will,
at least not until you forget me for good
the minute you let me all the way in.

Tags: poetry, poems, meditations, depression