Eyes or Wrists

We were right about where we came from.
The spit & fire, nails & razors,
The lashing of bicycle chains behind the knees,
Father’s handprint bruised to the side of my face.

We were right about how we’d get there.
The smiling lies,
Sweaty handshakes,
The pages of promises.

We were wrong about where we were going.
Dark rooms, friends still drinking
Coughing up stories of good times,
Past memories.
Tilting our glass more each year to the dead,
Calls in the night for help,
To which we’d come running
With all the passion we held for each other,
Blazing to be heroes time & time again.

Early mornings, remember?
Weapons out the window
Defending our home from the fire-starters
Like ancient wood we lived
The pigeon shit that builds
The attic light that glares
Has marked our hearts & we must destroy this room,
This possibility,
This responsibility to the children
Who play with piles of pills when they visit.
The fury & the broken cages,
Drinking smoke from the bathtub,
Eating what we could scrape from the pestle,
Below the torn fixtures watching cardboard angels wing
Above the only gift I ever brought.

The dragon never rose
But somehow drove past to unzip its pants.
Starting at the toes,
The lusty beast sketched out a future,
Scratched out the past.
Always alone on holidays,
I grind out a grin
Thinking, I should have warned you
I never had a friend like the group of you
Like idols & teachers turned rivals
This pain was never described to me
& We, by myself, have discovered new land
For this temple to self-hate.

Kittens scream from below
Asking if they are really buried here
With the memory of candle lit rape.
I have spent more time pulling memories
From the bottom of bottles & plastic baggies
By beaches of corpses
Than you have exploiting your thumb to travel.

Finally,
I have come to you, old friend.
In your persistent urges to watch her move,
Combined with warnings not to touch,
Without paying the toll
Of no longer letting your lies invade
With your reflected experiences & two pints of blood.
So I built you a totem
Of garbage & wind,
Drink & cocaine,
To hold back your anger when you saw
I paid only half the debt demanded,
& Shared the meal with someone else.

I know your waking thoughts
Are filled with him
So don’t whisper threats of eternal consistency to me
The golden wool that covers these eyes
Will never be lifted.
I hated watching for you in shadows
So I began to look in clocks & calendars.
I will no longer reflect you in action
So I washed clean all the sheets
That smelled like your memory
Of sweat & sex & better days.
I have never forgotten how your touch infected me,
How that in turn, infected you.

Holidays are here again.
That’s not the reason I dreamt you,
But the reason I drove past his house.
I remember the cold steel in your hand,
The taste trying to replace the taste
He had left in your mouth.
The lights were still low,
The curtains still closed,
His son standing on the porch waiting.
The old man hobbled to the door
Whispering the same words you said you still heard when you wake,
“Eyes or wrists, boy?”

I sat there a moment,
Waiting.
Were you there with me again?
Gasoline & pain clutched in your hands,
Companionship in your heart.
I’m sorry you felt betrayed,
But I’m not sorry you’re gone,
& I wonder if in his gravely voice,
You still ask yourself
Should I open my eyes, or just my wrists?