there was your laugh
almost comical
like some Walt Disney cartoon character
yukking your way
into the hearts of men
you had that way of standing
with your head tilted
to the side
and that look
that could only be called
askance
as you eyed me
half amused
the other half suspicious
never quite sure
when I was serious
and maybe I wasn’t either
it was hard to be
in those turbulent times
but you got serious
about that sci-fi religion
and getting clear
of what though
I never quite understood
especially when after all those years
you got the brand wrong
on my bourbon
insult to injury
but you had a lot
to remember
back then
and names brands men
all sort of blurred
I guess
and now I’m not quite sure
why I thought of you
today of all days
it’s a good week past
what was your birthday
maybe it was that young woman
who looked a lot
an awful lot
like you used to look
the hair
the shape of the ankles
I even recognized a knee
and so my mind reeled backward
like minds sometimes do
Steely Dan on the soundtrack
Black Cow
a book of numbers
and Jimmy Knight came dancing along
with Linda whatshername
there in Hollywood
in that place on Edgemont
the dog howling
whiskey flowing
and try as hard as I could
and love you as much as I did
I couldn’t quite get back
once is
after all
enough
besides I don’t drink bourbon
anymore
and a heart doesn’t break
the same way
twice
Reblogged this on Leonard Durso.
Oh boy, this just says it all. Every word is perfect and that last line is like you lobbed a grenade.
Thank you. I appreciate the comment.
A heart doesn’t break the same way twice
Just beautiful
As always, thank you, Sheldon.
Again, capturing that flow and cadence of remembrance so well, and with jewels tucked in like:
and names brands men
all sort of blurred
with the poem rumbling to a powerful bittersweet ending.
Thank you for this kind comment.
Leonard – I’ve read this several times, and each time the end is so strong, so emotional, and so true that it takes my breath away.
Thank you, Melinda. This is very kind of you to say.