Behind Me*

The jangle of
The Blues
The rhythm
Of the beat
The blend of rum
And Coke
Makes the sadness sweet.

The dim and smoky air
The smell
Of booze
And sweat
Makes a man
Feel his loss
And dwell on what he can’t forget.

What happened
To the sun?
When did it start
To rain?
Where did
Yesterday go?
And why am I in this pain?

It’s better to
Walk away.
Some questions are
Best not asked.
Tomorrow’s beyond
That door
And behind me is the past.

(*This poem comes from the experience of the most difficult time in my life, eleven years ago. I am no longer this man, but I am the construct of the pain and redemption of my path. We all are.)