The following is a poem from my collection, Permanent Ink on Temporary Pages.
Shadows and Fingerprints
There are fingerprints in the dust on the underside of the cabinet
And fingerprints in the thoughts on the underside of my mind
There are shadows on the ceiling
Out in the hallway where I sat on the stairs
And shadows in my memories
Cast by someone who isn’t there
I’ve never been as awake as I am right now
I want someone to talk to, but everyone’s asleep
And that’s okay.
I shouldn’t want to trouble them anyway
I never come as clean as I’d like to, in any case
I’m going to lie down on the floor
And close my eyes until I don’t exist anymore.
It all keeps going back to someone I don’t even know
Or the fact that I don’t know them because I was too afraid to live
So I walk through this city
Trying to find myself out there
Find only passing headlights
And landmarks of my youth,
Like where we’d sit where the sidewalk ends
Walk up the hill and around the bend
Cut through the woods to the circle of stones where we’d sit
Contemplating the world around us and our places in it
It’s not the same as it used to be.
Without Ian it feels a little bit empty.
Let’s get away for a while
We’ll go to Michael’s house, visit Loren in Ohio
Sip vodka and turn off the tv screen
Talk about life and death and philosophy
Get everyone together and go out to the lake
The sun goes down, the stars come out, but we’re wide awake
Let’s sit around a campfire,
Bring a bag of things to burn
Like journal entries
Written by someone who isn’t me
Clothes that don’t fit,
And some that never really did
That cherub figurine
And all my thoughts of her and me,
So maybe I can get some sleep
Get in the water
Float on your back
Let the wind in the waves wash away your every heart attack
Pitch up the tent
Get into bed
Stay up talking ‘til the morning brings the sun up again
Then go back home
Get on with our lives
Maybe never see each other again,
But that’s all right.
I’ll walk these city streets,
Try to find someone out there who feels like me
We’ll lie on the floor until our problems don’t exist anymore
Listen to music, read poetry
Watch television or just sit quietly
No passing headlights
No landmarks of a youth I wasted being alone
No shadows, no fingerprints
No hallways, no dust, no cabinets
Just you and me and our thoughts.
Just you and me,
Or me and my thoughts.
It’s always me and my thoughts.
When we die, do we turn into stardust?
Can it wait until I’ve made something beautiful first?
Because so far I’ve made nothing but shadows.
So far I’ve left nothing but fingerprints.