Touch-hungry ... (Holden 2022)

We decide to be alone

For now, and we know why:

Most at peace when life is simply

Give, give, give and die.

We shrug off incoming praise,

with its trail of expectations.

We feel uncomfortable

In a celebration's afterglow—

We're first out alone when a roof-fall

Buries the church door, though.

Pink fingers melting a shovel handle's ice

Scoop and lift, scoop and lift.

People say “thank you,” walking out

And that is enough.

They welcome us in,

And that is a gift.

We long for their touch,

Everybody we love.

That's the wet in our eyes,

Shovel-head diving in

With “can I help?” “are you okay?”

A sun-cracked smile and nod.

Someone might touch us someday,

But we leave that work to God.

True story, this morning ...

                                                                    (2022 November 22)

I asked her if she was okay.

         She told me I didn’t care.

I opened my arms; 

would she like a hug.

     She threw a ball of dirty tissues 

           into my chest.

                          I asked if I could throw them away.

                                               She said go ahead, 

               then screamed in my ear as I passed.

I screamed back in her ear 

“don’t scream in my ear!”

There’s the real You, 

                      she said.

You said you'd ... (song)

You said you’ll water my garden.          But you do-on’t…

And yet you wanted the same.

You want to stand where my heart is.   But you won’t—let it roam—where it's home—

Your nerves crack—when I roll—        On my back—in the grass…

So you call back my name.

And if you wanted so bad,                     In a life that’s so hard—

You want to love your own body,         And the weeds in your yard.

Well, I- can’t- give that to you.

          [Drums: Pf, ch-Pf, ch. Pf…chhh]

You said you’d grow open-hearted.      But you’re closed…

I’ve pulled that door everyday.

You said "let’s go to the party…"

So I hugged—all my friends—you said "no!—not with them—

She’s a bitch—he hates me—oh I’m sure…"

And so you pulled me away.

But I am going back in,                         You hear them playing my song?

I feel thunder in my feet, and                 You can please come along

But baby: my- heart- has to move.

          [Break]

Im in love! with the look in your eyes!

When you pick—up a wrench—and you twist—'til the engine hummmms. 

        Braap, braap, braap, brrrap…

I’m in hate, I’m in sad with myself,

When I let someone else—even you—choke and stall me frommm…

I `know you `don’t mean `to, but …

          [Back]

You said “I know I can get there.          Can you wa-ait?”

so/I set down my attaché.

You said “Can you rub my neck, dear?”

So I did—both hands in—'til my thumbs—needle-pinned—

Then I switched—to my fists—how are you…

Still so tight every day?

We’ve been under this sheet                 Hiding out from a storm—

But there’s no moisture in the breeze, 

And the light feels warm.

Baby, I think- the- storm's in you.

          [No Drums…]

I so believe in your strength, dear.         And your beau-ty.

Even when you’re afraid.

I have this singular duty,                        To the earth—and the trees—who I feed—

With the breeze—from my face—to keep looo—ving and breeea—

thing 'til my flesh falls away.

So I’m letting go your promises,            And filling my lungs—

I forgive you and I carry                         Every moment of us.

You said “Don’t- lie-" (Well) that’s the truth.

          [Drum break: Pf, ch-Pf, ch. Pf, ch-Pf, ch.]

          [Coda]

You said you’d water my garden.          But you do-on’t…

And still you wanted the same.

And if you wanted so bad,                      In a life that’s so hard—

You want to love your own body,          And the weeds in your yard.

Well, I- can’t- give that to you.

Camera phone ...

                                                  Taking a       picture                       of my face, 

                                             to remind    myself I                           still exist. 

                                     No one asked          “how are             you?” today,

                                So I posted “I'm here!”;   they’ll at least know this.

                   And maybe they’ll      judge me—           but I hope not. 

            And maybe they’ll     {heart} it,     and that’s like a “hey”?

       I could call all the hearts on my phone: {Like} that thought

(“Um, hello?” I would never—but it gets me through the day).

Ps ...

                                 OK, I think I got it:

       Do you remember when you were a kid?

                  And you met somebody you really liked,

                                                          who liked you too—

                                              And it feels like this bubble

                                        that you’re both blowing air into—

                    And you really want to reach out and touch it,

                                             but you know that it will pop.

                            So, even while the wind sweeps it away

                                         to spit-splash on an old swing,

There’s a weightless, breathless, tingling always about

                                   watching a thin rainbow smear,

                      stretched wide on the intangible air,

                                                  just floating?

                                          That’s it

                 That's why

            a note all

             blank

      signed

        my

name

Dog vs suicide ...

                                                                 Alarmed at about how relieving I found,

                                     in the kitchen, the dream of driving

 the skinny knife through my neck

                                                                    (toothpick through a sausage)—

           even the “Uh oh! No! Undo...”

          and warm choking on

            blood-spill through airways,

                    blip-blipping down a blue sweater, 

                              slipping under     a warm shirt,

                          beading in my belly button, 

                  pooling on the floor,

lightheaded falling into that pool—

                                                                    But really, I just wanted to eat, 

                                                       enjoy a state holiday afternoon without work.

              So I asked myself,

   Not at all a therapist,                     “Where does this self-harm dream start?” 

   Mm, wanting to escape?                           “Escape what.” Loneliness.

                                                                                “Say more” 

    I feel not connected...

                                                                  “Well then, DEFINITELY 

                                                                 eat your lunch outside today.”

   Okay! That was easy

(I’m such a good therapist)

                                                                             I go outside: 

                                                             neighbors are walking Morrison

                          (8months old—not puppy... not dog...)

       “My buddy!”      

  I say,

and set down my plate/cup on the porch slab

without even asking 'may-I.'

Then he sits                                                         “Good sit!”

Good sit, his moms say too.

He shoulder-melts down to one side,

rolls belly up                                               (little skyward sausage) 

                                                                       “Awe, my buddy”

I start petting him.

I can feel his energy amping,                      so I bring mine low:

                                                             “I get excited, too” I tell him—

I don’t want to die.

I want the world to rub my ears

And brush hands over my 

half-closed eyes

forever

  or as long

        as you 

               can  stay