June 17, 2007


I am the man in the middle
the man between my father and my son.
I am the man who is and the man
who will be, would be.

Life hurts.
Guys wander the street
in old shoes, their faces red
with the days and nights outside
with the burning inside.
The cheap wine glows
like bad memories:
we were all once
somebody’s baby.

He changed my diapers;
I changed yours.
I helped his naked body
from the bathtub.

Where do we go from here?