The Lonely Leaks In
(“Be careful
that none of you fails to respond to the grace which God gives....” Hebrews
12:15a [J. B. Phillips])
Maybe there’s a job at
home that will keep me there this time.
Maybe there’s a lover or a friend,
an upended cup of water that
was filled again.
The lonely leaks in like august heat waves through
the blinds.
I’ve been standing on
your porch hoping you still live
in the same house where I once knew you.
We were kids, we were naïve, we were insanity,
we were cotton candy and backyard picnics. We were
young love and agony.
Then it got cold,
and we got old
and I moved to the north country.
But I still feel you living in my chest.
Nothing lasts forever, some of my schoolyard crushes have died.
Some timeless friends have hidden themselves,
and some live just up the road.
But the lonely leaks like a diesel engine on fire.
I had a friend so smart
he could have been a
chemical engineer.
But he bought a bowling alley instead and had a hundred
friends visit him in a day.
And still the lonely leaks like the grease
from drive-in fries.
Maybe there’s a house
where laughter still lives
despite the brute force of age. Maybe
there’s a museum where one friend finds another
staring at the same painting for far too long.
Maybe there’s a child not grown
that simply wants to play on the swings again.
And still the lonely leaks in like delivering
newspapers before the sun rises on the weekend.
