Dates..
they don’t only tell you where you’re at, but where you were
but I always lose count of them because I mean
my memory sucks
and plus they are just days-
moments that pass away like mortality-
with its limited heartbeats,
and decaying bodies disposed of into the vast memory bank of the past
well, at least until something so tremendous or tragic happens
forcing your mind to remember what you felt and where you were…
you know those “where were you when..?” moments,
like 9/11 or Obamas’ inauguration or for that matter, Trumps
for so many years
I had the greatest perspective point at those personal historic moments
that place I always happened to occupy was sobering
personal reflection became life it seems
well if you haven’t guessed already
this great seat I’ve occupied for nearly a decade is-
prison
a place for sour sore asses
but life is about action
everyone wants to be near it
so they have a story to tell
feeling as if they were a part of the thrill
but the thing about a seat is
all you can be is in a spectator’s position-
dependent and passive it seems,
like movie goers,
you cant alter whats being shown on the screen,
you can only view, absorb, and react in this position
I feel helpless to life like a paraplegic
I just watch it happen all around me,
powerless
stripped of any authority and assertion to change anything-
in any minuscule or grandly favorable way
I’m rendered ineffective and defenseless to and by circumstance
who am I even at that moment?
certainly nothing and no one of any specialness
unable to have invoke any cause
or effect
on the comings and goings of things that both directly
and indirectly
affect me,
because of my view and therefore my lack of attendance
my presence is but a fleeting memory
held onto by few and far between
as for who am I, a question I solemnly asked moments ago,
I’m a nobody, transparent, a ghost
I can see the physical world but I can’t touch
nor change it
and I can’t move on because I cling to the life I had,
those that knew me
and not wanting to be forgotten
so I’m not ready to let go…
yet
I feel like background noise
like the tree that fell in the forest with no one around to hear
though it happened,
the world is going on in a way that feels like it doesn’t know
nor care that I see it happening,
because it has no plans to slow
so still it goes about its business
as I watch
and wonder
second hand, passively in the background
resigned to a fate I can only be told of afterwards
because I’m not there
I haven’t been for so long
just like that decaying body living on in mind solely
but dead to the naked eye
I’ve seen the world from a prison
my prison
i’ll let that paradox settle for a bit
I’ve watched life happen and pass me by
days renewed
then aged like ripe grapes fermenting into fine wine
damn I love wine
I’ve seen the world behind walls
as if I see thru walls yet remain unseen
I’ve heard news and stories second hand
its never the same when you’re told things
its like you always have to be there
even if just to feel it
or a piece is always missing
for both story teller and listener
you just gotta be there
otherwise life becomes the telephone game
and I’m left to discern the truth
envisioning the in betweens
piecing together all the fragments of a puzzle
a puzzle I’m so withdrawn and far from
oh
and on January 26
I was in my seat when Kobe died
is life even real at that point?
distantly I cried about a man’s fatality
because his life gave meaning to the shell of a man I had come to feel like
or the ghost I had become
and he never knew me
nor I him
but from far away
the stories passed on
made me feel right there
just like the best movies and books
but how can a hero-a symbol, die?
while you struggle to live on
feeling every bit of dispensable dead forgotten and see through
besides the life legacy and example their existence provided for you
but now who are you?
I?
sometimes I really hate the word hope
it sounds like help
hopeless sounds like helpless
so hope is helpless
because hope is a surrender
in some way
no matter how you twist it
because you have no control
and so you hope
you give in
give up
and hope you get
or gain something somehow
I’m helpless
oh and my sons
one I haven’t seen
nor spoken to while I’ve been in my seat
and even before for some time
too long for any apparent parent father dad or whatever you call me
and in August of 2018
I was in my seat
when my youngest first met me
what position huh
his latest 3 wishes were
to see me
wanting me out of jail now
and to play football with me
asking when am I getting out
clearly annoyed
he just read to me for the first time
January 31
on the phone
while I was in this great seat
I cried happy sad tears
what I’ve given up as a father being seated
just can’t be measured
and its all my fault
I live knowing my sons suffer in a way because of my absence
their mothers cant quite see it
maybe because they see it as a knock on them being there the whole time
as if I’m unneeded
I get it
but even worst
I’m Helpless to anything life can bring upon my sons
like the world being told of Kobe’s fate
in this passenger’s seat
like he was
where I can only be told, absorb, then react
what can be more painful then feeling like a paraplegic parent
of your own doing
while your kids still grow and face life
and the world still moves on despite your absence…
do I even exist?
dates…
what’s the point?
when a date helps keep track of the present
but what about when you aren’t present
where are you then on the calendar?
too far in the past
or too far in the future?
for once
being stuck
in the middle
that great grey area
the in between
purgatory
sounds much more appealing
because everything else-
too far out of reach
and I don’t even know whose reaching anymore
the world
my kids
me
or just-
memories
irony being my drive
which pushing me to live life beyond being a spectator
but for that drive
still has me sitting shotgun
or backseat driving
dates…
don’t get me started on birthdays and holidays
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