(DDSNFF)

I woke up with my cheek glued against the concrete

By the spit and hatred of my shame

Concrete on concrete is what I thought as I pulled my lip free

And broke out into song

“Mommas don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys…”

It was the first and only song I could think of that made any sense

Of the madness and chaos that had descended upon my soul.

Not the sleepin in my own vomit

Not the smell of piss that broke the air like a terrible perfume of

Man’s inadequacy

Waylon Jennings and his warning to all mothers that some men

Some broken men

Could never be relied upon except when they were leaving you behind…

It wasn’t long after that that the whole cosmic weight of my failure fell upon my mind and body and I became like a modern Atlas waiting and hoping for the god of thunder

To put me out of my misery.

“For Christ’s sake stop singing that damn song!” I told my head

Blistered and uneven

Shocked and forced into a state of unwanted sobriety.

All the while an old man whistled a broken elegy to his lost Samantha…

Samantha…I thought…sounds like my Sophia…

Sophia…

it was then the tragedy of all I had done and tried to forget played like a video on a loop

Over and over in my mind

Sophia…

the brilliant little star that had always shined so brightly through the infinite shadows that I had thought were my only friends…

Sophia…

the smile of Helen…poised and assured…that made me believe I could create something more than disappointment…

something full of love…and everlasting

Sophia…

What will she think of me?

The words limped across the darkness of my shattered mind only to find their way into the deep pool of my regret.

What will she think of me?

Sophia…

My little ‘fish’?