Daniel

"All I want is someone to hold me,"
Dan lamented the other night.
"Is that too much to ask?"
Why, yes it is,
Too much by far.
Poor wretched man,
Wrecked and teetering on
The fulcrum of agedness,
About to tip over.
Too late for torrid affairs, summer flings,
And romantic notions.
But that's his problem: he's sentimental
In saccharine, maudlin,
Indulgent, narcissistic,
Penitential ways.
Therefore, he drinks.
The bottle--his crutch
And constant companion--
Has ruined his liver;
Past indiscretions have saddled him
With chronic disorders;
His concentration is shot to hell.
(I'm writing his eulogy at this moment.)
Who will have him? Not the beastly boys
He prefers to hang with;
Not the busted-up bums worse off than him;
Not the drifters he hosts
Out of Christian mercy--
They'll all snuffle up
What crumbs he can offer.
He cannot work, he cannot function;
His mind is consumed with worldly affairs
Above and beyond his influence.
He's unhorsed, unmanned, unmade,
Unloved, unrewarded, unwanted,
And unfulfilled.
His doctors are rarely optimistic.
Regardless, this Dan has a glittering soul,
He's a sun that radiates rosy rays
Without provisos and expectations;
He yearns for elusive happiness,
And though he hears the melodeon
Of contentment wheezing away nearby,
He cannot round that crucial corner.
See here, Daniel: you and I
Are marooned on distinct but identical islands,
Stuck on our own paradisal plots
Of sand and sea and eternal hunger;
Those passing ships, forlornly tooting,
Will keep on passing. Best to learn a few moves,
A few tricks of the tradewinds,
Like the single guy hug: take two anacondas
(In a pinch, use your arms),
And wrap them about you
Tight-tight-tight.
Now believe in yourself.

Reviews

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

A very powerful piece of poetry. I was moved by your piece because I see much of my frailties as a man in these words. In the doubt which resonates with me. It speaks to me the same way my own regrets do. A very powerful and most human piece of poetry, Wilyem.