Kick Drum

i reach for the kick drum
that gave me life
as it hammers the sound
of a transvestite
in high heels
crusing the magazine rack
believing that
there will be meaning
in her fall from grace

in the same way i see a trash can
right next to a spaniard
reading Harpers
with an almost infuriating
command of attention
i hope the story is good

then i reach again
for the kick drum
calling me back
to hot summer afternoons
playing bad religion covers
in my best friends bedroom
as i made vow after vow
to get the fuck out
i kept every last one

but the dichotomy
still rests
in my endless movements
from state to state
sleeping the greyhound bus
to San Francisco
and then LA
and then back to Eureka

and then on through Colorado
through Salt Lake City
with poignant breaks

in the dirty south
and in Kentucky
and then Nashville
then to Virginia
where we got married

now we both reach for the kick drum
waiting patiently for the stillness
that is a residence
with space to act like humans
sealed until it all ends
in a gasping breath
oh how i wish
my dear Lord
would have let me
suffer all of this
alone
with a kick drum