by Allan Kaspar
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Photography by Sarah Kayß
A Collection of Poetry
By David Rutter
Benedition
God
You seem
To offer
So much comfort
To my friends
How I’d love
To believe
You are there
Can we agree
For just one moment
To pretend?
Grant me the power
To look in the mirror
And assuredly state,
“I forgive you
Your vanity
Your selfishness
Your pitiable weakness
Your arrogance
Your grandiosity
Your petty jealousies
Your silly sensitivity
Your lack of mercy and compassion
I forgive you
For not being able to help
Being you.”
Now, God
As you fade back
Into the fantasy
Could you and I agree
Just to keep this
Between us?
Just Faded Away
We held each other
In such high esteem
Didn’t we?
All those years ago
We even shared a woman
Well, a girl really
You held her left hand
I held her right
And we divided up the hours
Eight for you
Eight for me
Eight to sleep
Three on a bed
Thinking of you now
I know you have a son
But I’ll be damned
If I can remember his name
And where do you live again?
Marin? Mendocino?
It starts with an M
And you’re still married, right?
Still the same wife?
Did I start this process?
The day I told that same girl
She had to choose
It was me or you
It couldn’t be both
And that night we slept
All in one room
For old times sake
But we were in one bed
You in another
Is this what started it?
The decay?
I realize now
It’s been five years
Since I heard your voice
And ten since we had a conversation
I made a list
When I got married
It’s only now
Remembering you
Writing this poem
That I realize
Your name wasn’t on it
You and I
Would have died for each other
Had it been asked
Now I’d need a photograph
To accurately describe
Your face
We never broke
Never busted
Never burned it down or crumbled
My dear friend
We just faded away
Spring St. After Dark
Annie’d shot her nose off
Running from the cops
When they smashed down her door
She’d learned the hard way
To hold the shotgun with the barrel down
It’s so easy to slip and fall
When you’re in a panic
“Everything happens for a reason,”
Annie used to say.
Extra face hole, extra money
That’s the way she looked at it
I wasn’t my cup of tea, of course
But I could see how it might appeal to some
She’s just another carny
On Spring St. after dark
It’s a 50/50 bet
When gunfire splits the night
Some sad sack’s got his nuts blown off
Or it’s just Val Kilmer
Doin’ CPR on his career
There’s a film crew
Under every trashcan
On Spring St. after dark
I’m up on the post office rooftop
With a mint julep in my hand
(The best that irony can buy)
Taking potshots at the rats
Who scurry tween the junkies
Lying prostrate in the alley
It’s always a crapshoot
Whether these guys will mind at all
If they get hit by mistake
I just watched a skid row whore
Polish off her John
Then reach behind the nearby dumpster
Pull out the baby in a stroller
She had hidden there
Teach ‘em young
That’s the secret
On Spring St. after dark
Beetle could talk a blue streak
Around you every night
You’d give him anything he wanted
Just to shut him up
There was no choice but be nice
He might be a Hollywood producer
In the morning
Sure as hell
That’s what he’d been before
Your track marks
Are your billboard
For the dealers all to see
They might always give you
Something a lot more deadly
Than what you came to find
But you take your life
(Not to mention your soul)
In your own hands
On Spring St. after dark