hand to hold

one turns left
the other turns right
and the sun sets for the last time.

it was said
we belong together
we will last forever

we believed what was said

we watched so many sunrises separated
but always watch the sunsets together, holding hands,
looking to each other

even when miles and time zones prevented us from touching,
through the ether we were together at the end of each day.

one career lead a path to the right
the other career leaned to the left
but we always met in the middle when the sun set

and the heat of the summer
and the cold of winter
brought burned houses
burst pipes
late night rescues
early morning emergencies
messes to clean
memories to recover
but then when the sun set we held hands

so many straws placed
broken bridges
houses divided
grinding axes
apple of our eyes,...
so many years of rebuilding,...
and through it all we looked to each other as the sun set.

near homelessness
lost loved ones
monkey on backs
weight of world
and the vows of sickness and health were never broken

kids to teenagers
teenagers to adults
adults to grandchildren
so many family gatherings
all ending with the sun setting while hand in hand.

to most we were the pillar of the family.
for commitment
for sanity
for forgiving
for never losing hope

and one sunset not too long ago one grandson said "I know you'll be together forever"

for within our strength
the kids and grand kids
and friends and acquaintances
all relied on the us

and I say yes
yes we are together forever but,
this
this, is my first sunset without a hand to hold.

Mona Lisa smile

I never thought
never thought it

I never thought I would be here now
that I would still,
 be,
 here.

I was the littlest one.
bounced from mom to mom, with one half of a dad

I never thought I would be here now.

So many years of self inflicted pain
so many homeless nights

So sure I was
sure that I was not,
not able to instill the chaos of my life into my very own offspring.

and yet I sit with my baby boy on my lap,
picture day, that day when people smile and share.
and pride is normal

but the photographer slow and camera not professional this pose will take a while.

my baby  boy on my lap we sit.
I am rigid, waiting,
like you see on TV when a camera from the 1800's is used, where the photographer instructs the subjects to sit still, and not breath, then he takes the lens cap off the bulky primitive camera, while reinforcing the command to hold very still.

30 seconds of rigidity

it takes so long to get those shots, but it should be worth the discomfort.

30 seconds of rigidity or was it an eternity of holding breath and pushing down emotions?

rigidity, hold breath and fake smile,
all the while this amazing little life smiles huge, eyes full and happy, like when he is well fed and wanting to play a game.

Just a little bit ago he was touching the tears streaming down my face. His magic trying to make them go away.

He is so innocent he has no idea that right now
 I am
rigid
body stiff
posed

a moment to be cherished but instead
like a steal girder rusted into place on an abandoned bridge my Mona Lisa smile appears.

a time that would normally
be soft
 be caring
be loving

is instead filled with
reservations
self-preservation
and feigned happiness
all the while the baby boy sits and smiles care free on his mothers lap,
on my lap.

Stoic
Still
Posed
Pretending to Love
this thing on my lap.

this thing on my lap that causes a revulsion in me as strong as seeing a person decapitated

this horrific scene is not because of the boy himself it is because of fantasy

it is my fantasy
my fantasy lived daily that caused this reality.

fantasy feels good and reality catches up with you

Both collide when my baby boy comes to visit with his adoptive mother.

My baby, which came from the fantasy of sterile loins
my baby which now lives with religious freaks,
freaks that fed my fantasy, and took my baby

He came out just a little bit addicted, he is not as bad as me, I don't see why they had to take him from me.

"I would have stopped once he was born........"

and so  I sit holding what is not mine, yet he is, mine.
His smile brightens the whole outdoors.

and my Mona Lisa smile, holds back my rage,
my fear
my disgust and anger and blame

and I can't wait to get him off my lap,

the visit has gone too long and I need to find a place to sleep tonight and a fix would be much appreciated.

reality sucks and fantasy is waiting.

so one last smile,
fake kiss and weak hug,

tears stream as I walk away
walk and then turn left,

glass pipe and a hot lighter
and I smile
smile
smile,..
like that one painting, man
man
you know,
you know, that, you know, lady sitting with that,  little smile, you know,
yeah, man
I smile,
smile like Mona Lisa.