from the LA Times
of a man standing in front of
The Wall
with his arm outstretched
fingertips inches away from a name
just a name
inches away
and he wasn't touching it
just reaching for it
as I'm sure he'd done before
one last time
before it became another name
on The Wall
reaching with so much pain
so much hurt
carved into his writhing face
with mouth askew
agape with pain
with searing loss
and napalmed memories
exploding molten jelly
thoughts from a past
buried under bottles of whiskey
now bubbling and trembling through the cracks
of a hardened exterior
and here I was cutting out this clipping
because I thought it looked so cool
it looked so neat with all that emotion
so well composed, I had to hand it to you
because I knew you'd been there
I thought you might think it's cool
I thought you might think I'm deep
right up until the moment I
blindsided you in the middle of your paperwork to say,
hey, check this out
check out what I found in the paper
and you froze like a bullet whizzed by your ear
like a grenade went off nearby
and exploded shrapnel that tore
through your modern day
filled with phone calls and paperclips
you froze with your arm outstretched
fingertips inches away from this clipping
just a clipping
inches away
and you're not touching it
just reaching for it
your eyes turned red
blood red
and you choked on the breath you were taking
frozen there
with red, glossy eyes
you held in something trying to escape
a hurricane from within
you held it back
with everything you had
and said
It was a very hard time
