Treasure Island

Noel Marsh

(4/6/74 / Tucson, AZ)

The Differences


The promises we made
as children
running sometimes free
through fields of waving grace
lost and blistered in the desert sun
those fields
long stretches and patches of mesquite and saguaro
littering my youth and dreams
and shattering yours
what was there never really was
if that doesn’t make any sense to anyone
that’s ok
excuse this at least for now if you don’t see or understand
the differences between you and I
that's alright too
this really isn’t for anyone else but the one who won’t ever read it
or will and find it hard to believe that it was all on them
that I never left to look for the better in life isn’t true
6 years gone now
or something close to it
where I got on that plane and left
behind me the misguidance of a father that was never was there
and sometimes a mother who was too much
and a girl who was, all at the same, too much and not there
to tug and pull
and hamper
and weigh down
lost summers and drunk nights
pitchers of honey wheat and brown ale
or tall tumblers of ice and scotch
maybe back to that 6 years gone
to steal a line from a favorite song
Arizona really is a long ways away from the great Cascades
where I find myself now occasionally looking over my shoulder at snow
capped hills
and long for the heat of long desert nights
and a youth spent living out dreams to non completion
it once took more to keep me down
but those six years
you'd find me different now
and even you would need to be excused for not seeing the differences
between you and I
I’ve left behind needs to see and be seen
a weird dog and pony show
trying to be better than at least you or those I knew
going now on some 14 years ago
while still caught up in their radio
playing that classic Poison ode to roses and thorns
I tried so hard to get past that
so that I would never look back at 91 or 92 as my high point
and the rest of life dust on a counter that no one uses
then I moved on to you and
then past you
not quickly
no
not by any stretch of a great imagination
but then to here
and the great Cascades
and now the tall timber of loggers and their cheap beer stained nights
This was never about you
and never at the least about what you and I were
but the differences between you and me
(at least that’s what it is I keep writing)
and how finding myself in the maple leaf of a foreign flag can illustrate the stretches
and pulls
a boardwalk of salt water taffy
that found you still searching
and me
I don’t know yet
the cliché that still exists
and pages
and chapters
to be writing
or the last minutes of a great film
not yet directed.

Submitted: Tuesday, April 18, 2006

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