Jim Trainer

Pop

In Uncategorized on August 27, 2013 at 6:32 pm

Hewitt Lake Club
Minerva, NY
7/21/13

5 more days on the mountain looking like death and feeling worse. The high warm sun up here is bulbous and mocks me where I sit in the screenporch writing for most of the day. My nights are broken and punctuated with nightmare dreams and so it seems-all bad love is with me, all exile&regret. The stain of death marks me and mornings coughing and looking in the mirror to see the tell-tale signs of living like this too long. My nose moves down my face, broken crooked and ugly. There are some serious black rings beneath my eyes. I am becoming that death mask that haunts me in nighttimes. My beautiful company here does not relieve me. Intimacy acted out in lone declarative statements, strangers stabbing at the dark. In such peaceful bucolic settings, the war in our hearts cries out in bitter Victory and in sallow defeat.
I will never get over losing him.
When I tire of hero-worship and the conversation at dinner makes me want to jump up and flip the table over, when I must participate in shallow revelry and solemnly accept it as love, when I’m leaning on the railing of the cabin over the lake, silent and smoking,
things come to me only as my desire for them.
His freckled, Irish skin only present as my aching for it-his flesh his hair his body his cough his laugh his music. What I miss the most would be one honest word from him, but I’m left only with my need, as much as when he was living, but now my anger is gone and I at once understand the tragic and ironic reality of death-I had to lose him to lose what kept us apart. And now he is gone and he is no longer here, and I am left only with my need and my conviction buckles under the weight of forever. Death has shown me the true value and fleetingness of life. Our lives are blips on the screen of eternity and our anger is even smaller, so small as to not even exist.
We suffered fissures of dysfunction, living out this American script that cleaves sensitive hearts away from the love between fathers&sons. There is nothing left to forgive. There is no going on and no life to be shared. Here ends the bloodline, with me.
And here begins my blues.

So, take my love, take it down,
oh climb a mountain and turn around
And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills,
well the landslide will bring you down
-Stevie Nicks

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