Last Night at the World Center

The tears of a thousand broken lovers rolled down my back last night
The bitter wind cut trough my sweater and into my heart cutting me low
The salty splashes froze along my spine and down into my black slacks

Now I understand Sam Cooke and his regret for leaving the church when he did
I miss hearing my father sharing the wrong stories with the right people
I miss his bony feet and his approving nod and his sweet smelling cigarettes

The distance between me and the car never changed no matter how fast I walked
Tail-lights of other cars moved soundlessly away from me getting smaller as they went
My fingers burned with love and loss and a memory of youth before it all fell down

The sun will come soon enough – like it always does
I’ll be home with my thoughts and my cat like I always am
I’ll be disconnected – not discontented – missing almost no one

Not one who expects too much of music
Not one who thinks the Marx Brothers were a band
Not one who got strangled by the past
Not one who forgot what friendship means
Not one who could make it better if things were different
Not one who forgets to notice the guy with the burning fingers

I’ll miss the old man again – like I always do on nights like this


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