Today I begin sobriety.
I hope it doesn’t kill my writing.
“Why do you dwell on such petty things?”
He will ask me this often.
Snow is starting to fall in this City of Salt.
It is cold in the morning here
And my fingers are often numb.
The morning is dark when I have to get up.
Because the sun has not awoken
And the moon is still smiling.
All summer long,
There has been a spider outside my window.
Its body, is as big as a quarter.
I wonder, what time does the spider wake up.
I wonder, where will he go now that the snow has started to fall.
Why do I dwell on such petty things….
I grew up on a street that looks like any other.
4 stepbrothers showed up one day.
And they stayed.
My mother tried her hardest.
Four boys, out of the blue.
I saw her cry a lot
I heard her yell a lot.
She tried her hardest.
My oldest brother Clint passed away two years ago.
He died of a drug overdose.
The street I grew up on has seen a lot of death.
Cancer, drugs, suicide.
I try not to think about about my street in this way.
But more lives from that street are trying to go.
Like it’s hard living the lives they do..
I wonder what it is that makes them so sad…
I think there’s something wrong
With the street I grew up on.