You Have Eluded Me

April you have eluded me.
Slipping from my grasp, Spring,
you disappear again.

It's morning and my mind is wandering.
i smell eggs cooked on flat top
by a man in a white shirt,
his arms covered in the scars of living.

The rustle of dying news print
mixes with the aroma of fresh ink
and black coffee. There is silence.
No one speaks except the waitress
and the errent naval musings of the kithcen staff.

If the sun rose today i did not see it.
Clouds covered the sky as i made my way
into the crowded world.
It looks as though it will rain.

The humidity can be felt through
the windows behind the register
and the particle board booths along the wall.

The sounds of knives scraping butter
onto toasted bread, spoons mixing creamer,
and forks helping the hungry clear their plates,
this is morning as best as i can remember it.

Warmth you have eluded me.
The words of casual conversations reach my ears.
And when the young woman says the
words "shame for last night" i smile slightly.
She can still know shame but it has been long from me.

i count the sugar packets as the rain comes down.
All of the single serving jellies and jams are in order.
They fall into the cosmos as being perfect,
only as i have influenced them.
Their order restored from the drunks
who manipulated them only a couple short hours before i arrived.

Salvation you elude me.
my mind filled with various judgements
and with these i shall be judged.
If it is with my standards
then this day i reside in hell.
"God", i pray in silence, "don't leave me now."

The rain doesn't as much let up
as roll back into the clouds.
The gray world still exists.
The pain wrakcing my body brings me back to attention.
The right side of my face sears with electrcity
and i have to try not to cry in this sacred place of stoicism.
There are no weak people here at 6:23 a.m.

Eyes look nervously towards me,
i reassure myself that killing a diner full
of people won't help me now. i gather myself and all is right.
Gazes go back to the ritual of morning.
The folding of papers and the scrape of the fork.

Destiny you have eluded me.
What should have been and what is are not in line.
i suppose i should be thankful for my low estate.
i am as i slowly turn the engine over
in my 1979 Oldsmobile.
i think about the tip i gave and hope she can use it.

Grumbling, the car rouses to life;
the rain continues to come down on everything,
the good, the bad, the rich and the poor.
i slowly remember i am alive.

The machinist who owned my Delta 88 before me
left it smelling of cigarette smoke and oil.
The smoke has faded to a faint tempered glaze of tobacco,
the oil a reminder that there is hard work in this world.
Elvis haunts my car; in that space between the doors,
upon the faded bench seat, it is always midnight.

Discontenetment you have eluded me.
Gather round you virtues which sustain me, faith and hope.
i breathe deep the rain soaked air coming through
the ventalation system. Nothing is better than today.
Pain, silence, a good breakfast, and an old car,
happiness surrounds me.