William The Coroner’s Forensic Files

Thursday, 2, July, 2009

Off The Rails

Filed under: Poetry — williamthecoroner @ 13:27

300px-White_River_Junction_VT
He went off the rails in White River Junction
In a roadhouse in the eastern edge of town.
Knowing finally that the dream had left him beaten
Sinking shots of booze as fast as they’d go down.

They had to help him from the stool where he’d been sitting
He was frozen from the stillness in his heart.
I said, “Mister, you can’t drive in that condition,
Here’s your jacket, where’s your keys, I’ll fetch your car.”

I drove him to his motel across the river,
He sat so quietly, I thought he as asleep
But the moon showed her pale face through forest branches,
I could see the tears of anger on his cheek.

He said, “There’s the love you need and there’s the love you receive,
And there’s a difference,
And when the love is wrong, you’re better off alone
It leaves you heart confused, and your spirit twisted,
And the loneliness can chill you to the bone.

I’ve had it up to here with loving from long distance,
She’s hhad too many nights of waiting home alone,.
Too many ultimatums, too much blind resistance,
Too much anger, too much silence on the phone.”

He said, “There’s the love you need and there’s the love you receive,
And there’s a difference,
And when the love is wrong, you’re better off alone
If leave you heart confused, and your spirit twisted,
And the loneliness can chill you to the bone.”

He straightened up, and said, “I think you for your trouble.”
As I parked his car beneath the motel light
He said, “How will get home? You’re miles from nowhere.”
“It’s not far,” I said, “I like to walk at night.”

I said “There’s the love you feel and there’s the love you give,
And there’s your difference.
And when the love you give falls short of what you feel
Words stick in your throat, and leave you choking,
And what’s in your heart, is what you best conceal.”

And so I left him in that motel in New Hampshire,
With the TV on, the sound turned down to low,
Seeking answers in the shadows on the ceiling,
Come tomorrow noon, he’ll pack it up and go.

“There’s the love you feel and there’s the love you give,
There’s your difference.
And when the love you give falls short of what you feel
Words stick in your throat, and leave you choking,
And what’s in your heart, is what you best conceal.”

Garnet Rogers 1990

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1 Comment »

  1. Interesting poem, thanks.

    Comment by Old NFO — Friday, 3, July, 2009 @ 13:24 | Reply


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