May 27

MEMORIAL DAY

Veteran of the addiction wars, I have scars but few medals.  I don’t need a purple heart, mine is black and blue.  I don’t keep trophies either, no empty bottles or old syringes.  Hostages, I have released them, too.  I found often they held me from what my life could be.  I wear my defects and wave my flag.  I am slowly learning to live in peacetime.  The big battles have been won; it is up to me to stop replaying the scenes of engagement.  Armistice is a beautiful thing; too bad there is no better way to get to it.

Write the dedication page for your life.

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Queens: More than a Borough

My drama is bigger than yours.

My drama can kick your drama’s ass.

Well maybe not, but it sure is kicking mine.

Like a rain soaked grave, I stand in this muddy hole,

sides slick, unassailable and count the piles of tragedy ,

all the while knowing it will bury me

not facilitate a climb out.

I attempt to display the face of comedy

and yet the mask can not fool me, my true audience.

I think if I can keep it all up on stage I will be alright,

But then the point of theater is

that everything is carried away

in the minds of all who come and watch.

Silence doesn’t help either

for there is little worse than a bad mime

and doing it well just makes me Lillian Gish.

So, back to Bohemia for isn’t it all a rhapsody,

though it would all be so much better

if Freddy Mercury weren’t dead.