Record Book
I wandered over the black bald
And fingered through the blue wrinkled pages.
I recalled when
I cracked my neck and rolled my eyes and
I asked you what was the point.
When
I twirled on the black and white tiles
and held you when you slipped on them.
When
I reached my hand into uncharted darkness
and pulled out a ruby.
When
there was streaming color and pounding sounds
and my left ear wouldn't stop bleeding.
When
you walked right out that door
and never bothered to write.
When
a happier face
saw a happier time.
When
nothing was the same.
When
you promised.
When
I knew I would die.
And I lived.
My little poetry book accounted for all the times
that I needed to remember.
I pour all the inequities into the blue
and stumble back down the knob.