poem of the day 02.03.15

foot in my mouth

i put my foot in my mouth

i say the wrong things all of the time

and here we were

it was pretty innocent and pretty normal

like a regular day off at the bar

you and me and manhattan like always

seth telling us his stories

in between pulls on pints and vodka shots

as jukebox music rumbled the grassroots

in my defense, it was the kind of day

where i tend to forget myself

and jobs and bills and the hundred sundry problems

the kind of day where i get on my sudsy pedestal

and go on like the last great american orator

the kind of day that seemed de rigueur

to the spirit of our existence only a month ago

but how could i forget cancer

and say a thing like that to you?

it wasn’t even about you

but about me and my old man and his prostate cancer

only i knew that i put my foot in my mouth

as soon as i said it

if i have prostate cancer at forty then obviously

i wasn’t meant to be on this planet anyway

as sure as your eyes filled with tears

i knew that i fucked up with that one

and i practically begged seth to get us another pint

i should’ve realized it before i said

been more proactive than the beer in regards to my thoughts

because it’s always there

cancer cancer cancer cancer cancer cancer cancer cancer

like some wilted, gray beacon in the night sky

there aren’t enough pints to take it away

enough saturdays in manhattan

to make it pack its bags and go beach itself

on someone else’s couch for a while

and leave us be.

                                                07.07.14