day TWO HUNDRED and THIRTY ONE

Lost and Absent Countries

At five am, mind moves awake
more often now, maybe part of getting older
anxiety takes over
other times, like tonight, it’s the only time
to think without noise, excepting tinnitus

I’m lost reflecting on people
that I haven’t thought of, heard from in years
inventories of intersecting lines
time, decades in particular, become glaciers
stolen and absent countries

When I finally do drift
its with Leonard Cohen lyrics
circling in my head
vague recollections of
record store mornings
flea market afternoons

That afternoon a friend texts
his brother has died
I remember an old friend
when his father died
before cell phones, we talked via phone
drank port wine and whiskey
telling our stories of him
and his stories
until my friend was drunk enough
to take his grief with him
then it seemed like comfort
it seems now
we’re left with staccato characters, empty screens

our rugged individualist mythos
drowns itself isolated
missing only some real connection

--Jason Baldinger