this is all retrospective

this is all retrospective
by stacey shapiro
death
she was always sexier than life
but both sisters have a gravity
that everybody secretely dreads
they both weigh down on me
oh, they will not let any of us be
i heard the smiths say so
and i said oh my god i agree
that’s that opinion that’s never gone away
that i never took the time to say out loud
i am so grateful someone said how i feel
and i didn’t even ask them to or anything
i guess
i’ll never believe
i know what i’m talking about
and neither will you
no matter what the rest of us say.
it’s okay. you’re gonna be okay.
it’s not fair that
never finding a way out
for good
isn’t extinct
isn’t even on the endangered list
powerful verbs like that
are a species, a league of their own
but it feels very good
when i quickly inhale as much fresh air as i can
when letting go of unneccesary things
as i hear them drop dead
on the ground down below the grand canyon
i’m not gonna dare to cross
another old rickety bridge
from indiana jones
or some trash
the air crashed on the vines and they
whipped me across the knees of my dungarees
they ripped right thru them and
made my skin bleed
yes, i think i’m gonna pass and try other new things.
i once saw a decadent old sandal
flipping on by the
neighbourhood stray cats.
she didn’t seem like she had places to go.
i saw a lot of myself in that crazy sandal.
i resented her for that.
i called her a spinster and went on my way.
i get so scared of existence sometimes
that it’s inescapable and
there’s nothing i can do except wait it out
because i can’t even begin to describe it
i don’t really know what to say
it’s overwhelming, is all
maybe two or three times every two years
generally during the winter this happens.
(the season to pray will be smooth sailing):
the price is right and soap operas
just blend in
and end up looking the same as me
there’s no difference in anything
and nothing has ever been done about it.
i nuzzle my blanket
and think i’d be better off
one of the clusters of lint
i’m ripping off
and making a pile of
on the arm of mom’s suede couch
i’ve traced squiggles into
with my right fingertip
what an exciting desirable life
what a big happy family
i wont even test myself and try things
so precarious like turning on the tv
when that mood takes over anymore.
every decision becomes a pivotal life choice.
microwavable hors d’ouvres or microwavable pizza.
pillow on the head or foot of my bed.
the course of my future depends on it all.
when this happens
i would never think anything bad of smoking
i would never even dare to quit
because i have nothing better to do
then allow myself to waste away
i’ve had enough cigarette breaks
to last a teeny tiny tot’s lifetime
i grant myself these breaks
“they’re something i’m doing for myself”,
i reassure my headaches
i ask them politely to pipe down
their rhythmic throbbing lull me to sleep
nothing a tylenol pm could do.
it becomes hard facing
needing to get up before double digit hours
if there is too much day
what if i’ll run out of things to do
for the rest of my life
by mid-day
i need to wave farewell to this
i need to go
somewhere else
that’s beautiful, that exists
before i start crying from mourning
goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.