love is a boy named Jimmy

a man who calls his mother every day is a man in
love with: life, the world, the ocean, the meat of a
Louisville Bat, with women, he cooks food with a large
Italian boot.

and love is amazing, it is glorifying
love is a boy named Jimmy
who fell far too much in love with the world,
only if the world could feel his unsaid thoughts. 
and no, it doesn’t make much sense
especially to a fellow ballplayer
that you are gone and I am here.
I walked those same fields of dirt-covered
diamonds,
then crawled the evil garden for many years
after; way before you graduated rehab in
Florida, back when I was falling
and you were living, fishing, cooking.
so I did the same thing
I checked in and I kicked,
and then I did it again and again and
again and again and again
and now my nose perpetually runs
and my bones are frozen tusks

but Jimmy, we can’t feel bad for being
who and what we are,
remember, it’s not just a hangover
or some simple cure,
you and I see and feel the earth under
the streetlights
the clocks
the bars
the yards
the unforgiving tyrants
and we leave the rehabs and are reminded
of the world
and what we’re dealing with;
so I too held out my arms for some extra love
but the only thing I let touch me, poked me
and a large number of times
and it only wanted my soul.

brother, you’ve been rescued; we are mean to ourselves
our wiring is rearranged, it’s nobody’s fault
(it just is).

so I know how you felt with each and every breath.
I still breathe mine every other second
sober or not
but something’s different about you and me,
we are forever stalked by someone we never
called upon, and it still laughs at my pain
as it once laughed at yours; it takes the air
out of our wings and the light drips from our eyes
but still, we cannot stop
we feel judged, for our valor and our sickness.

there’s nothing we can say about that beast
in the black puddle
or the crystals and petals that swirl around
the moon, ignoring the sun and the ones
we love
except
we never laugh in those times,
we don’t love as we should
we are too busy fighting to catch just one
measly breath,
so the laughter and the meatballs
and the old man and the sea can all
possibly hear our sighs.

however, I’m not sure you lost a fight, Jimmy
your mother and family lost you,
but only for a period of time
please tell that to your mother for me, I feel her  
pain in her letters, and her words they are not lies,
they are the words
of a proud proud mother
no flesh needed to convey this truth.
she’s still proud to be your Mama
and I know you’re watching her now.
you, her firstborn baby
even prouder to be her son,
you are now her devoted and primary sentry.
brother, you were her first piece of motherhood
and no matter what she thinks
she did a perfect job
and so did you, as her very first-born.

(I love my Mama too
so when I do not hear her voice my blood
slowly drains…the song of a gentle maniac

yes, I know you understand).

because I’ll be honest with you, Jimmy my boy
it’s still not a party down here
the garden of soul-sucking flowers
have conquered a world
that you and I will never understand,
even from way up high it must be hard to bare.
but you were chosen
to watch over the rest of Us, and with The Other’s
so tap on our shoulder when the trains keep coming, 
watch us from beyond the planes
with that giant ballplayer’s grin,
and spit the stars into your brother’s and sisters
eyes, put your hand upon your their backs
and listen to your last lover’s dream
(you were hexed and buried in love
so I know this is accomplished).

I just like to gloat about you, Jimmy.
my brother, another product of my muse

because what else can I say?

we are the fools who fall way too much in love 
until Something decides to fly us to freedom.

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