I haven’t seen the sun rise
since I walked away.
Missing you is the closest
thing to the sunshine I miss.
The heart is a lonely hunter
and also a round of steel wool.
My God, no one told me love
is the passionate fire from hell.
She put her love on me
and all the music made sense;
all the Donny Hathaway and
Bill Withers made sense— my God.
Baby, missing you is the closest
I’ve gotten to a full day.
It’s night all damn day long
and the lonely are always out.
I can’t live alone or without a spouse.
The demons won’t leave me
alone and they don’t come from
the past anymore—
Missing you is closest I’ll
get to the warmth of full day,
a sunshine, a sunny day in Savannah,
or Sothern Comfort and sunset with you.
Missing you is the safest way
to be sorry and vulnerable,
comfortable and lonely.
The safest way to survive and love you.
Boatload of Pain • Gerard Sarnat
summer vacation
marina job Mr. Shaver
the high
school shop teacher
got me out of pity
even though
my spring semester
wooden ox cart
was a fucking
disaster,
screwing
around, mostly
hammered,
this bad boy
let down Dad
who really should’ve
known
our kinda Jew
can’t use
tools
which
privileges
were revoked
by my wife
thirty years ago
after several
wangdang
doodle
expensive compressor
misadventures
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