Young Man Leaves Party

my take on Mark Strand's 'Old Man Leaves Party'

My tie was pre-loosened.
This was not to be like before.
Saturdays are not Fridays.
I didn't perceive breaking her heart
I promise.
Not on Saturday.
Seemed like more of a Tuesday thing.
I look like a burnt-out businessman
in a suit.
Or a sleezy car salesman.
The sound of rolling beer bottles
down the street
made more sense as a recording
of "they're laughing at me."
Ha
He's a poet. Its ok.
You won't ever know what I think about you.
unless I tell you.
I've eaten all the taffy I can stand.
Whiskey and ginger ale hurl bricks
through my facade.
I'm a much better actor, sober.

a beginning with no end, yet

I begin to notice
now.
Being downwind from loneliness.
Like raft logs
in whitewater
I am both afloat
and sunken,
praying for
the day I am
named driftwood
and burn
as two soulmates
spend sand in
the search for beauty
not seen by firelight.
I have not been
waterlogged, yet.
But I've swallowed
my share of rapids.
There is not
enough wine
in this world
to wash me from you
I know this
and I almost apologized, but I was far too jealous.