Andy Derryberry

i stand in a burned and smoldering
40 acre field

a field of ruination by my own hand

i played with the matches carelessly

and brilliant beautiful flame of pale blue

flared into a conflagration that left me

scorched with regret and

solitary in this field of smoke

now all i see is what was before

what is gone and will be nevermore

was it real or imagined

or only a phantom

i lost the time to know

because i was careless

and now the only sensation i have

is that of the heart pounding in my chest

and the pulse surging through my veins

and so i am alive and maybe

given the time to nurture a field

and perhaps time to forgive myself for

burning this one

a vision
today i had a vision that

when i’m on my death bed

when the light shines bright

and i begin to float away

the last thing that i will hear

againt a background of oprah

or dr phil

will be a discussion of dietary fiber

and regular bowel movements

***

A cold day drizzling rain
I stir my coffee
And listen for what isn’t there

Something missing
What could it be?
The love that was you and me

Scratching the walls
Tearing up the furniture
Knocking over lamps

Running hot and loud
Howling at the moon
Screaming in the wind

Out until daybreak
Reeling in the flow
Exhausted in a heap

That love was you and me

I look around the house
Where did it go?
Wasn’t it here just yesterday?

Then I see a trace
A tattered piece under the sofa
Dusty and moldy with spider webs

I pull it out quickly
But it seems lifeless
A shell of what it was

911 arrives right away
The EMTs working fast and hard
But that look they give me

“No hope friend
But we’ll keep it alive
For the emergency room”

Crash carts flying
Gurnery’s sliding
Just like TV

The hectic pace goes
Far into the night
But as the hands are straight up

“It’s time”
Looking at the clock
“Dead at midnight”

***

in my time
i’ve looked a multitude of the dead
in the face
in their caskets

when i was young
the country way
said the words
under a tent

and the men
considered it an obligation
and privilege
to shovel in some of the dirt

when i was young
that’s just the way it was done
i observed and followed
the lead of my dad

now it is a matter of respect
to look on the last state
of a person who mattered
but resides there no more

today it repeated once again
after 85 years the simple end
to a child, a pretty woman,
a mother, an old friend

the talk around a casket
much like everyday talk
of not much import
mostly chatter, chirping of birds

but i did see
the lonely walk of a man
of her age
to the final box

without others
away from families
solitary there
all to himself

he silently wept
wiped away the tears
since he was not husband
and she not wife

he wept about the loss
of what was
of what had been
of what have could have been

he left a little later
not because he wasn’t known
because it wasn’t his
to officially mourn

but i suspect no one
friend, child, family
loved her
more than he

I’m the only one on Sametime/AOL
Even Ricardo is gone; he’s always logged on

So I’m by myself
Riding this dinasaur down to the tar pits

No scenery, no fun, no company
High noon in a ghost town

Nobody to shoot at
Nobody to shoot at me

A casual little jaunt
From a short past to a shorter future

A smooth ride actually
Sure, steady, definite

Dead silent except for the air purifier
That spits a chad occasionally

So quiet that I know I have
A bit of tinnitis

From that straight-piped John Deere A
And the wistling wind on motorcycles

As far as I know I could be on this rock
All by myself

Since I can’t have proof
Of anything

Hurtling into deep space
Yet all I feel is the lumbering dinasaur

So relaxed, so easy
So sure and unalterable

The only one on Sametime/AOL

amazing how incompetence wins hands down
amazing how much credence is given an ignoramus

amazing how reason is drowned out
amazing how group think is such a constant

i must soon declare my war on their stupidity
i must hold to the last piece of my mind
i must protect the small space where i can live

my mind not their mindlessness
my mindlessness not theirs

***