Stephen Caratzas

Short Trip Home


Through the gates
past the iron lion
up the slight grade
feeling the gravel
crunch beneath you
the yearly sojourn
every early July
because tradition calls


the sun unforgiving
the welcome less so
time has healed much
be grateful for that
and so many other
things you've forgotten


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I'm More Than One Sunset Behind


Because that's the way
God planned it.


He looked, he evaluated,
he threw the mother into drive
and this is where we ended up:


You looking your way, me looking mine.


There are still so many pipe dreams
available, which makes for a cozy
two minutes on the set list of
your life.


Me, I'm taking a gander at a
pitiless past and an even
more pitiless future.


Can't you see me waiting tables,
pulling double shifts
—with my back!—
stacking quarters like a levee
against the rent
of some shabby
rooming house like in
The Abbott & Costello Show?


I can't hardly not afford to not wait.


In the meantime the sun is setting
somewhere and it's a beautiful
pink orange gold one
magical and provoking those
who witness it to grow insane
at the joy of existence.


I missed it.
I was here, next to you.


Nowhere I'd rather be.


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