One Twenty Three

god is the face on the coin
the coin is in my pocket
"planets weren't meant to collide"
remember?

except there's this coin
nd it makes me sad
or i make it sad
and by sad i mean angry
you'll understand later
it's a kind of magic
like voodoo or something

sullen, the day trips, stumbles, loses its place and begins again,
embarrassed
did you notice the second sunrise?
redder than the first

a turtle without a name is still a turtle
and just as green as the day he was born

i've become too old to eat out
and too dumb to eat in
spray paint on my gloves

no more frozen pizza
'm pretty happy with that decision
golden shoes and no turtle to speak
of waiting for the planets to dysalign

violent at tea-time
did you read the leaves?
did you read between the raindrops
i can walk there
except in Winter
i have no use for Winter anymore
it doesn't rain in Winter
and when it does, it's cold and ugly
i'm lost without the rain
i'm cold and really i'm just an ape with new shoes
new shoes, some meager computer skills, a firm grip of the english language and a penchant for abusing it with somewhat amusing results

i keep thinking of turtles
it hasn't begun but i will finish it
i hope it touches you where i can't
my hands no longer care
watch as they fail to wave, fingertips reddening against the cold

it is customary to say good night at this stage
a kiss is not necessary
but watch

(she hands him a thimble)

it's been a long time, i suppose
one year exactly
how quickly we forget
except that I never will
nor will I forgive
not entirely
not anybody
not ever

if god is the face on the coin, what happens when it comes up tails?

        *         *         *         *         *         *         *         *         *         *

    So there's this nickel in my pocket. And I grip it as I pace this room. I grip the nickel and I pace this room and I curse your name. I grip the nickel and I say a thousand terrible things to you. Terrible things I could never say to you in person. I call you dreadful things and I insinuate ugly events - most of them true.

    I call you a thousand names and I cry a thousand tears and I grip the nickel. I channel all of my hatred for you into the nickel and when I've had enough and my heart is about to burst, I take the nickel out of my pocket and I hurl it into the wall.

    I do this so that I don't have to punch you in the face.

    I retrieve the nickel and put it back in my pocket so that tomorrow's hatred may also be channelled into it. Because I will hate you tomorrow. I hate you a little each day. Usually in the mornings. Sometimes I wake up hating you. Sometimes I don't hate you until after lunch. Sometimes I hate you twice - once in the morning and again around tea-time which is 3:00 PM. I do not drink tea at tea-time. Instead, I grip the nickel and I pace this room and I curse your name.

    My hope is that eventually all of my hatred for you will have been put into the nickel. When that happens, I will throw the nickel into the mighty Mississippi. And I will be so used to gripping the nickel as I pace this room that my hand will instinctively dive into my pocket and grope the nickel. I wonder if I will instinctively start to hate you again.

        *         *         *         *         *         *         *         *         *         *

    An addendum must be placed here, if for no other reason than to complete the trilogy. I feel I should state that since I wrote the above words two days ago I haven't needed the nickel. I'm hesitant to do as I promised and throw it into the river. You should be there for that, I think. You should see it happen. But I'm not positive that it's over. I'm not positive that I don't still hate you somewhere.

    I'm afraid.

    I hope this means I'm finished. I hope this means I don't have to hate you anymore. I hope this means that writing this out has exorcised the last of the demons you fed me. I hope this is the end and not just a clever intermission. Just in case, I'm holding onto the nickel for a while. Just in case.