A Game

I keep playing this game, maybe you know of it. I sit around and watch movies, maybe good television, and I find ways of relating them to you. The romantic comedies and dramas are pretty easy. Sometimes I’ll add in a little challenge with some absurdist piece or an episode of BSG. The goal of the game, as all games need a point, is to fall in love with you. To fall in love with you and motivate myself to tell you. I’ve been playing it for a while, I’ll put the number around 2 years, and the interesting fact, as I’m sure you’re about to guess, is that I’ve never won this game. If I had, I probably wouldn’t be writing this. There must be some irony in never winning a game you invented, though I’m sure many other idiots along the way have played something similar if not exactly the same. Maybe I could start a group. A little online community where we all play a game together none of us has a chance in Hell of winning. It’ll be kind of like an AA meeting but just filled with some saps who need to get over themselves and realize that things will never get better by remaining on the couch. Sure, the pizza is good and there are some really funny threads or memes to read, but you’re basically just chewing on a twenty-five cent gumball. Of course, me putting this down in poetry makes me the biggest sap. But, then again, I suppose the group will need a president. A sappy leader. If I’m going to make myself depressed, I might as well be around enablers.  It’ll make me feel better. And then make me feel more sad when I’m alone. That could be another game. How sad can I make myself about being sad? Maybe I can turn these into board games. Make a little money on the side with my depression, especially since being a poet doesn’t really do it. I’ll just make a sad salary. The money won’t make me happy but I’ll be able to continue my Netflix subscription so I can watch more movies and television as a way of thinking of you. So. That’s a plus.

Remembrance

Every year on July 2nd, I write a poem, sometimes two. I write them as a reminder and a remembrance of someone I care about very much. She passed away on July 2nd 2010. Her name was Renee Michelle Rhodes and she was my best friend until I stupidly let someone get in the way of that. The poems are a way for me to express things that I don’t normally express out loud and a way of helping me confront myself. Here’s one I wrote at the bus stop today.

We have so little time.
Deadlines for work, papers due,
Exam studying, catching the bus.
Schedules make us feel in control of relativity.

We have so little time.
Rehearsals and bills to pay,
Waiting for promotions or lay-offs.
Money is just an idea.

We have so little time
And you grabbed me in seconds,
A race into friendship.
I never understood your smiles.

We have so little time.
We waste it staring at clocks,
Digitized information, and virtuality.
You had a strange and wonderful warmth.

We have so little time.
Fixated on what I could’ve done,
Regret puts me in fast forward.
Death takes away second chances.

We have so little time.
Across the country, now, I look back,
realizing why they call the mountains blue.
I hope my sadness can combine with another.

We have so little time
And you barely lived past twenty.
I hope angels did lead you in
But I’m not religious, like you.

We have so little time.
I have nothing of yours.
I should’ve kept a loving reminder.
I’ll frame my mistakes for nostalgia.

We have so little time.
And it seems I’ve already fucked it up.
I think fondly of the nights you cried, sharing
And trusting me. I should’ve known better but

We had so little time.