April Is The Same As Any Other Month.. Poem by David DeSantis

My love came over last night,
I took her to a driving range.
Neither of us are very good,
But I thought it might break the ice.

Up the hill,
we walk up the hill.

I look at the ground
The ball, my club,
and her.

A swing its short,
Dirt, and ouch.
The ball it goes less than ten.

My love its been forever,
forever its been to me….

She smiles at me,
Forced, so forced,
Yet this one is mine.
Impress her,
be the man she remembers.
She was yours,
once more she can be.

I feel contempt,
contempt is what I feel.

Maybe a sip of Heineken first,
You need to relieve the tension.
Six years off and on,
their remains
an unease in tension.

She swings and I wonder what she thinks,
Is she thinking at all?

I sip,
cold and refreshing.
There you go, drink it away.
Your always more confident
And your love,
She loves confidence.

Green bottle, green grass, sunlight, and her.
Things aren’t so bad on this hill.

I step up,
Club gripped tight.
Swing,
No dirt: 100 yards.
Well it’s an improvement, I say,
and my love, she must take notice.

I smile at her,
Disconnected, disconnected.

We leave the driving range,
And I suggest dinner.
I take my love
our hands together,
Yet a grip held loosely.

7 years ago,
she told you,
she loved to hold your hand.

At dinner, my love and I,
we talk of the who’s and when’s
And how’s.
My chicken is undercooked,
Her stew a little cold,
I feel a heart the same.

Superficial, I think,
superficial.

My love comes to my apartment,
I cannot seem to
look her in the eye.
What’s happened to you friend?
You’ve looked so many in the eye!

She doesn’t look at you either,
maybe you’ve changed a bit.
I offer coffee,
While she suggests tea.
I decide to skip the them both,
And smoke a bowl instead.

Paranoia, I think,
Paranoia.

We lay on my bed
I hold her, she holds me.
Repetitive patterns
but it feels good to hold her.
I am tired,
she is already asleep.

Afraid to wake you my love,
Afraid to wake you.

I take the futon,
And she remains in bed.
Looking up at the ceiling,
I see no stars here.

I remember when I first saw her,
That girl she’ll be the one.
I had stars on my ceiling then,
And we used to make love.

Sleep doesn’t find me,
She snores on the bed.

Oh my love,
how I wish I could tell you
We’ve put up walls
Since then…


Copyright (c) David DeSantis