If I could take this summer back.
I would sit inside and not go out.
Watch the grass growing.
Crystal glasses filled with wine.
A book of philosophy
Written in another time.
But, I’ve been out.
A dead moa on a concrete lawn,
Thinking the long way home.
I’m over myself and
Wondering whether there is a self
To get over,
To get through,
To forgive
For breaking the window
And sitting on the front porch
All night long.
To forgive
For pretending that my stuffed panda bear
Was truly alive.
A friend to confide in.
A friend to forgive.
But now the laughing voices in my head
Are nothing more
Than moas on a concrete lawn.
Nothing more than anger left
By other men.
If only
I could take this summer back.