(un)Bright Future

the blue sky has nothing
to tell me nor does
the calm Aegean Sea;

staring ahead at
the oncoming train, its headlights
cracking the absolute darkness.

all the thoughts about the future whirl in the air:
pursuing a PhD in philosophy,
working for a company, climbing the corporate ladder;
buying a home, having a family,
dying of old age.

a long pull of bourbon out of the bottle;
glass-pipe is lit, it cracks, blue smoke rises.
memories from a shooting gallery,
the luxury houses I’ve escaped
during crepuscular hours.
expensive cars driving me around
on our search for booze (and drugs).

a peaceful suburban life,
barbequing every summer in the lush yard,
watching television next to an ageing wife and teenage children,
by the fireplace, during algid winters.

ugly fiends knocking on my door at
4am, desperate for a fix of the cure.
strangers leaving my apartment in the morning after
a cup of stale coffee and an even staler kiss.

large, king-size bed, mattress filled with duck feathers;
a three-stories house, a basement,
hell, even a goddamned pool.

I slept under a bridge using newspapers as a blanket;
had an apartment but couldn’t find it in my stoned condition.
hid under the bed when the husband came home.
had to endure their having passionless sex over my head;
five of the worst minutes of my life, I had nothing to drink.

grandchildren visiting,
laughing, playing, their hug gives off
warmth and the feeling of being alive.
grown children, respectable citizens,
wage higher than yours, better houses,
cars, clothes.
they thank you for everything.

the waiting room in an abortion clinic
is colder than a mortician’s basement;
death is sitting next to you, grinning.

alone with the wife in the big house,
you crack a bottle of expensive red wine to
watch your favorite tv shows.
you kiss, then go to sleep together.

a motionless body next to me,
her head on my shoulder.
I was chasing dragons,
she had caught hers.

no need for hospitals;
peaceful resolution
on the king-size bed
next to the crying wife.
smiles in darkness.

in it went, I was gone;
up in the Bar, Dylan gave me whiskey,
Charles two beers.
smiles in darkness.

resurrected, to decide
which path to follow;
easy choice, I made it
years ago.

I’m still trodding along the railroads, looking
for the fucking train.