Almost Elvis

Marriage is a strange thing. Commiting yourself to one and only one other, Forsaking all others, forever until forever is no more.

And it’s meant to be perfect, fresh daisies in the springtime, raking leaves in the fall, season after glorious season

But how can we be someone’s everything, all of the time, how can we be giving and kind and supportive and sexy 

After so many summers spent dragging kids to the pool, losing pairs of goggles after goggles?

Or winter coats, on top of winter boots, on top of winter hats, and mittens covered in frost, and snot?

After a time, you look up at your beloved and you see 

He is no longer a rock star

You no longer feel right in heels

It was good for enough for awhile, now it’s only good enough for Vegas. A close facsimile to the real thing. 

If you squint you can almost see him–almost–Elvis 

looking back at you. Glancing up from the newspaper 

he reads on the toilet.

Corner of Raymond and nowhere, Newark big dog station. Haitian Creole, American jive. Dude with the Doobie spouting spot on parenting psychology. How in the duck do you expect your kid to feel loved if his father doesn’t love his mother? No matter how hard you try to keep that shit from your kid, he gonna hear it, he gonna feel it. How in the duck he gonna love himself if he ain’t raised in a house of love? Brother, preach. This, as I stand on the opposite edge of the sidewalk with my hypervigilant, beautiful daughter. The one who I tried so hard to blanket with nothing but love and security, grew up disbelievingly that what was right before her eyes was deserving of her trust. We do our best, but it is not enough. It can never be enough.

Blue Moon

Black dog

Golden Bourbon

Hollow log

Open door

Quiet room

Too much things

Gone too soon

Scary doll

On the chair

Signs of life

Everywhere

Calligraphied prints

Painted walls

Pictures, tchotchkes

All of the all

So much of you

No longer here

Before that day, I’ll take a chance

To build a bridge

Where there is none

Long washed away

When the summer’d come

No one watching

No one home

No mama listening

On the phone

Three little orphans

Looking for crumbs

Could’ve fed each other

But then we’d have none

Instead we fought

Built fortresses tall

And stood behind

Garrisoned walls

No room for love

No vulnerable hearts

Each of us stood

Prepped with darts

I’ll shoot you first

Before you see me bleed

And never will I ever

Reveal my need

For sisterly protection

Sisterly love

That’s way too scary

I am too young

Mid ’50s now

But with you,

It’s as if it’s  

1972.

I am six

And you’re much older

And yet I’m parenting

Perhaps I’m bolder?

Bold enough

To want more

Then these bits

On the floor

I want serenity

I want peace

I knew even then

It wasn’t in reach

But only if I stuck out my hand

And took not yours,

But my own.

The only one

Who’d lead me home. 

The only way I’d be okay

Was being strong 

enough to hold

My own