One Love and a Heartbreak From Happy

She's probably listening to the same CD I am right now,
She's probably halfway home. I just bought it today, because the other night,
in her car
it sounded like two angels were singing just to us, about us, like it used to feel,
back when we were in love.
Back when we were young, and mostly innocent, and knew what we wanted,
who we wanted,
how life was supposed to be and that all the goddamn bad guys wore black hats, not shiney eyes and broken hearts.

She's probably shaking her head and crying, because she tried being mad and it didn't work out right. She knows
it doesn't fit cause that's not how it's supposed to be. It's sad that fits, because I'm blind and slow and sad and scared, how can I be scared ?
She probably just
couldn't wrap her head,
around my heart,
around the issue at hand.
She's probably not waiting, not waiting to call that guy what's his face that was so boring a week ago but is a goddamn good respite from the rejection that I didn't mean, rejection that eats like a hungry dog, the rejection that she not only doesn't deserve but a fistfull of rejection that I know is
wrong.

know.
feel?
ya, damn right.

She's probably hoping I call. She's probably right, cause in ten minutes I'm going to go out and get a phone card and call,
and she's probably not going to answer when I do. I wouldn't. I'd make me sweat it out,
get angry and sad and frustrated so that I know what it's like, she's probably right.

If I were her I'd have hit the bricks last night when I wasn't home for the third call of the day. Fuck that guy, I'd have said, I'm out.
If I were her, I wouldn't understand either. How can you have
a sweet, simple, happy home, a sweet simple happy love, a sweet simple happy laugh, and say,

no

sorry, not now, it's not right, I'm not ready. Inactivity speaking lowder than
words.

How the fuck could you turn away everything you say you want, for something you say you don't? You
use
your
head.

It's the end, it's always the end, and it's fear that's kicking me in the teeth and it's fear that is copping a squat in my emotional Wheaties right now, it's fear of,

oh shit, my car broke down, how'm I going to get to work today?
oh shit, I'm broke, who's buying dinner?
oh shit, I'm lonely,
oh shit, I'm drunk and laying on my bathroom floor laughing at myself,
oh shit, I'm a year older,
oh shit, I've just wasted five years of my life on a girl who doesn't love me, and I'm not sure if I really love,
oh shit, the girl is gone daddy gone,
oh shit, I'm sixty five and I'm alone and I'm lucky enough to look back with a santa sack of regret, I've got enough for us all kids.
oh shit, some guy is a lucky bastard.

What stops you
in a situation
like this, what
makes you not
realize what you
know and " sack
up " What makes
you kick yourself
in the stomach to
kill the goddamn
butterflies that
keep me awake at
night, when they
try to fly right
out my throat or
my eyes? Why can't
I admit that maybe
it really is right
maybe it hasn't been
too long and maybe
love really is
real. Why can't I
see that maybe,
sometimes,
this other one isn't
right, and that it
really really really
can be enough, if you
really really really
want it to be.

What makes a man so stupid
that he calls himself so, but
in the end, doesn't do a damn
thing to change it?
What makes that desk monkey sit
there day after day typing away
making his boss rich and himself
get sore wrists that he has to
wear a stupid little blue bracer
for ? What keeps the fat eating,
the sad weeping, the angry fighting,
what keeps the me from stepping up
and taking my life back?