Before Kennicott
Even before it begins, I want the end
Age has made me inflexible and cantankerous
I don’t want to live in the moment
don’t want to live
don’t want
don’t
I beg forgiveness for being inflexible and cantankerous
Waiting, sitting, forgetting why I agreed to do this
Sigh
I’m over heartache and jealousy
Clichés
I can see happiness in front of me, my arms outstretched
It is simple to vacation and so hard,
busy people all frantic about different things
personalities that barely mesh in the relative ease of our daily lives
I feel my rage staying near the surface
ready to explode at any moment and I hope I can suppress it long enough
and then scream into my pillow later
They’ve never seen my rage
I don’t like it
I feel like a child
Spoiled, inflexible
Things should stay as they are
As they are
Not quite
Not this
As they are
As I am
Inflexible
Cantankerous
Impatient
We’ll find ourselves soon at a lodge
a disappointment to my urban sensibilities
to my immaturity
and I’ll feel ashamed to not be more connected to nature
or Nature
Connected to the universe
I am clichés
waiting for a beginning I want to end
longing for moments I fail to experience
I’m waiting
and Daniel is sleeping
Written 13 June 2008 in Anchorage, Alaska. Revised 1 October 2018 in Glencoe, Oklahoma.
Brian Fuchs, “Before Kennicott” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)
Previous Version
Before Kennecott [Daniel still asleep]… Waiting
Even before it begins, I wish the trip was over.
Age has made me inflexible and cantankerous,
failing to let me live in the moment.
I don’t want to live in the moment,
don’t want to live,
don’t want,
don’t…
I beg forgiveness from the people I want to please,
give only passing thoughts about those I don’t really care if I please.
Waiting, sitting. We aren’t gone and I feel the pain of love thrown in my face.
Unintentional, but hurtful.
Sigh.
I’m over being in pain; done with heartache.
Clichés.
Happiness is a mere decision away and I should run towards it, arms outstretched.
It is simple to vacation and so hard,
busy people all frantic about different things and personalities that barely mesh in the relative ease of our daily lives.
I feel my rage staying near the surface, ready to explode at any moment and I hope I can suppress it long enough
and then scream into my pillow later.
I don’t like it.
I feel like a child who wants things to stay as they are.
As they are. Not quite. Not this.
As they are.
It isn’t me who I am.
We’ll find ourselves soon at a lodge, which will likely disappoint my urban sensibilities
and I’ll feel ashamed to not be more connected to nature
or Nature.
Connected to the universe.
Hold it in.
Don’t let others see what secrets they already know. I long for an end.
6.13.2008