Blank Pages

Where does the time go?

another year older,

another year gone.

These winters are colder than I remember

and I no longer snowboard

and I no longer ski

and I sold my snowmobile years ago

and I’ve grown to hate shoveling

and these hill towns feel lonely

the “Happy Valley”


these country roads and orchards

these mountains and rivers

will never be the same

and I will never be the same.

My heart is lost at sea

my soul was sold in the desert

my memories are plenty

in the valley,

and I hate it.

I’ve thrown away my high school year book

my varsity letters and senior jacket

and piles of memories

and old photographs

from the day I was born,

from my first day of school,

from my 8th grade field trip to D.C.

and from my senior prom,

from Cartagena

from New Orleans

from Baghdad

from Haifa

from Haleiwa Town

and from Halawa Valley

and from that vacation to Maine a couple years ago

when we drove all around Sebago Lake

and stopped for iced coffee in Gorham,

and from that time in Strawberry Fields when I imagined…

One by one, every last picture.


Scented candles now disgust me

I was never a Yankee anyway,

they lost their allure when they went public,

but this was never really home

and it never can be again

I have an itinerant disposition now

and I’d rather die than stay here,

idly wishing for new pages.

There’s no looking back

glory days are a farce

so I try to erase pages with Irish whiskey

and re-write these last chapters

the ones that fucked up this book,

but you never can…

once pen hits paper,

it’s always something new

it’s always somewhere new

it’s always someone new

but I don’t want these pages anymore

so it doesn’t stop me

from tearing this book apart at the binding

and tossing the pages into the fire place

on this cold winter’s night.

Page by page

chapter by chapter

year by year

lover by lover

I erase my history

I erase my memory

I erase this coldness

with a baptism by fire

and quench this thirst

with the last of the Jameson

washing down a handful of government pills…

I wake up in a daze

my head pounding

my heart racing

but my mind clear.

On the table I find

a blank notebook,

a few pens…

and a one way ticket to paradise


About soitgoes1984

I was born and raised on land stolen from the Pocumtuc. I now live on a small island in the middle of the Pacific ocean, on land that was stolen more recently, from the Hawaiians. I am addict, struggling to kick the habit of fossil fuel. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.
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