Today

Today, I drive to that place I met you
and there is an aura of lost hope lingering
above the pavilion where we
used to sit and talk about
what our high school years
would bring

Today, I walk down my street
where we skated and fell and
laughed about boys that
meant nothings and
the future that meant
everything

Today, I look into my backyard
through the kitchen window
where we jumped in the sunshine
with garden hoses and red cheeks
hearing my dad's lawn mower
whirr away

Today, I speak into the phone
that I cried and screamed and
pleaded into for you to understand
so you would feel guilt for
the abandonment that you
left me with

Today, I walk across the stage
like the day that was supposed to be
one of goodbyes and feigned severance
but that has already been
accomplished

Today, I retrace my memory
but only after a few drinks and
the sudden lightning of recollection
that seems to haunt me
only in the state of
half-consciousness