White Vinegar

I went over there today
against the advice of everybody

(to my mom’s house
where she no longer lives)

I noticed the garage door was open
his bike was not there.
Good chance my brother wasn’t home.

(its not his home, of course,
not any more – but still
he wants
to stay there)

I went in
clearing each room
calling his name

(don’t want him behind me drunk)

I fixed the phone
which hasn’t worked since shortly after
he last got out of jail
3 days ago

Most lights were on,
in the bright daylight,
and the TV
So I turned them off.

I saw his laptop
open where he was working
on his book

his ghost book

The house was a mess
he was probably down
on the beach

Following desires
attenuated by his friend
Popov (Now in an all-new UNBREAKABLE container!!)
to the faintest of ethers
by a breeze
by gravity

I came home and called him
he was surprised the phone worked
I guess he didn’t know he’d unplugged it.

I understood
that what I’m doing
is letting him have some time
near the border of what might have been
where he has used most everything up


All understood
all jaded

So he’s got a place to live
for a week or so

Until they serve the next warrant

And he can ride his bike around
and around

Just almost touching
what Popov will nearly allow

A faint image of creativity
A scented hologram of passion

moved by desire
undermined by apathy
it dies immediately
with the slightest thirst

This transient space is my gesture.

To a gentle boy
who loved the color pink
and played with dolls