Moving right along the brain says to the fingers
though the fingers have no idea where they are headed
but as always the blood pumps them up and down
and the white and red blood cells are tyrants
causing oxidation or cancer or whatever the hell they conspire to
create right under your thin skin
and she’s still there
the one that got away.
But what a ridiculous expression
when she never would have come back even if you had
no one gets away.
Do you get that, Narrator?
People don’t escape unless they’re hostages.
People leave or people stay.
Only lucky hostages get away
So don’t let this whole poem be about the one that got away
cause that means you’re a terrorist
and she’s a victim and we’re all better than that
and let’s get back to the writing and stop being so self indulgent.
I majored in staring
I studied Drama
as much as Drama studied me
and the professors homework for us
was to “watch people
act like them.”
So I sat and stared and got good at being creepy
and when asked if I had done my homework I would answer:
“Sure, I watched a lot of people yesterday.
I saw a guy argue with a sandwich
it changed my life.”
Now perspective proves I’m great at creating drama
especially when drama is not necessary
cause I was a good student
so if you say something don’t be surprised when I fly off the handle
because that’s what I learned
that is the reaction I saw
perhaps in retrospect
I shouldn’t have stared at the maniacs north of Princess Street in Kingston
but that’s where I did my most of my homework
and overreacting at the drop of a hat or a beer bottle
has now been imprinted
and here I am writing my defense
why I was a good student
and a great actor
and a terrible date.
If God played favorites
why do I live next to a poor Jew and and poor Hindu
me being raised a middle class Catholic now living in a poor Toronto neighborhood?
Does God set up shop like the lottery
and you at least gotta buy a ticket
to get in on the prize?
I bet God is bigger than that
or God bets I’m better than that believing that
either way here we are
wondering where we are
I’m still poor
and God is still wondering when I’ll become Him
so he can become me.