Introducing
David Boski

droughts & dry spells

 

usually the apologies 

become meaningless —

I’ve said sorry so

many times now

even I have forgotten

what I’m apologizing for

but I guess 

it’s for not feeling 

normal enough

to sustain

a healthy relationship

for a prolonged

period of time —

for not adapting 

and welcoming 

another human being

with the love needed 

to do so

and for always 

thinking the grass

has to be greener

on the other side 

only to realize 

that a drought

is inevitable —

the dry spells

are what

make

us 

thirsty.

 

 

 

 

 

A cup of coffee

 

he walked by the room I was painting

and asked me if I wanted a coffee —

I declined.

we were in a vacant rental apartment,

repainting the walls before they installed the new floors.

he was an immigrant from Spain; rough around the edges,

always looking disheveled and tired,

perhaps from working too hard —

or too much.

we had previously met while we both worked for

another company and I brought him on to help me

with a few jobs I had coming up.  

he had a wife and two kids back home

whom he missed dearly—

he said he was working for them,

and sending back money every month.

 

I heard something in the apartment

and went to see what it was

as I thought he had left to go buy coffee —

and that’s when I saw him on his knees

with a card in his hand

chopping up a white powdery substance

on his phone.

 

“I thought you were going out for coffee”

 

‘no, no, coffee, COFFEE!’ he shouted grinning ear to ear

while holding up the phone.

 

I laughed and nodded,

understanding his plight—

and remembering all those times

I needed a little pick me up

myself.

 

 

 

 

Uninvited Guest

 

sometimes I know it’s coming

making it hard to breathe.

an emptiness consumes my gut

and makes it feel like 

I’ve hit a big drop on a roller coaster

at an amusement park.

 

other times it shows up

like an uninvited guest

that I desperately want to

get rid of

but I choke on my excuses 

so now I’m sitting with it

in my living room

listening to it speak

knowing it’s full of shit

knowing it’s killed before

and knowing that’s what it ultimately wants.

 

I never know when it will leave

and sometimes I think it’ll stay

until I finally give in and decide

the visits alone are torture enough

but until then we continue to do

our little song and dance.

 

days 

weeks 

and

months 

 

can go by 

 

but I know I can count on

 it coming back —

and I know

we’ll be seeing each other

again soon. 

 

 

 

 

 

A Special Moment in Time

 

I remember she told me

she found

somebody else

how it felt different

how we were done

and how she knew

she had something

special

and that maybe one day

I too would find somebody

special

and if I was lucky enough

to do so

I would know.

and she was right

for a moment there

they were very happy

I’m sure.

they fell in love

and got married

very quickly

and then she got pregnant

but after she did

he cheated on her

the entire time

not so special—

anymore

now

is it?

 

 

 

 

 

No Mas

 

After the diagnosis he gave up

he didn’t stop drinking

didn’t quit smoking Rothman’s blue

didn’t start exercising

didn’t change his diet

didn’t change anything—

I guess he knew his fate

so he made like

Roberto Duran

and said

“no mas”

except

just because you stop fighting

it doesn’t mean the fight’s over

this isn’t boxing —

but if it was

the referee would have

stopped the fight

a long time ago —

instead

the disease continues to

punish him

everyday he wakes up to

more abuse

his brain’s communication to

his legs

lost in translation

he uses his arms to

move them now

each step more excruciating

than the next

and so

he waits —

for a cure?

unlikely

for death?

how lovely.

 

 

 

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