the lost sock

he said there are bad people and there are good people
with heavy eyelids and a half smile.
he said ive been on autopilot telling
these stories all night, about
popsicle sticks and
flashing lights.
his laugh, his infectious disease
was twirling over our heads.

charlotte was red in the face and the other girls
had all been seen crying.
we said over and over, he almost died.
we wished for someone other than ourselves
at 11:11, usually i get nostalgic and weepy
thinking about love and shooting stars but
tonight as it unfolded left me clear headed,
exhuasted,
and wishing for him.

i can see every
minute of his decay and i think it all unfolded so simply.
anyone can fall into love like it's a bear trap
with the right pills,
the wrong time,
the friends who hold you to the sky and say
shoot, shoot, what else have you got to do?

i think he's a crazy genius,
he scares me sometimes with honest opinions,
but over the landrymat tonight
we washed out the lines drawn to keep us safely contained
in separate corners.
the rich, the young, the almost dead
must disappear to spin that silent dread into
music for us.

but in the end he will inspire
friendly fire.