there are moments
when the past comes crashing
through the door
like some unruly relative
demanding attention
there are people I’d like to forget
but their ghosts refuse to listen
and they pop up in conversation
some trigger evoking them
collars turned up
cigarettes dangling from lips
hot stuff devils on biceps
eyes hooded, suspicious
they were not good boys
doing things not accepted
by codes other than their own
there is remorse in my heart
for deeds done, witnessed
scars that have faded in time
but still pencil thin lines remain
in places that substitute for a soul
some day atonement beyond what was given
will be expected
and all the good will be stacked up
against the bad
they understood this
did not care one way or the other
not believing in anything beyond the hell
they suffered through
and though there is no pity in my heart