You’ll Never Have This Opportunity Again

A voice inside keeps repeating,

You’ll never have this opportunity again.

Title or first line sets precedent.

Pride is my sin, even with low self-esteem.

I remember severe pain

sitting at table

with head collapsed

on folded arms.

God sat across table from me,

asking, “Who do you think you are?”

I froze, forgot how to talk.

When I looked up, the thought was gone.

I recognize pattern within myself,

where I fall prey

to someone who may or may not

take advantage of me.

I grow anxious, fearful, needing to be released.

In childhood, my younger sister ran to my side,

but years of therapy freed her of that job.

I still return to pattern, frantic, self-destructive,

worthless feeling, with no one to rescue, nurture me.

You may wonder about my allure to my ex

and other damaged women I’ve loved.

Now you know, I’m fucked-up.

Unseasoned, I scribbled, “If the peanut butter

isn’t streaked with jelly smears,

than you’re living too anal-retentive and proper a life.”

I realize my younger self wouldn’t like older self.

Enough about me, let’s talk about you.

What’s it like being a Siamese twin?

Are two heads really better than one?

When one of you finds a lover, what does the other do?

Do you look away? Close your eyes? Stare?

Who’s in charge of money?

Ok, I didn’t mean to get off on the wrong foot.

So you’re not actually a Siamese twin?

Seeing double is my problem, oh god.

Tonight my sister wrote,

“I begin to understand the mystery of life,

the moment unfolding, to harshness

and softness of just one moment, 

so dear, to haunt you for desiring more.”

The moon tonight, thin sharp slice set on spine

in western sky. A miracle, that’s what I think.

You’ll never have this opportunity again.

Bishop to Queen 4

^{Everything is such fun in the beginning,}

^{when it’s new and undiscovered.}

^{i’ll try almost anything.}

^{What is meant by almost?}

^{All these stupid sick shit roles we play,}

^{all this pretending, why?}

^{i want to believe there’s something}

^{behind the curtain}

^{besides a windowless stone wall}

^{Something inexplicable}

^{his/her majesty of everything/}

^{living/dead/never existed.}

^{William Blake said, “Either be a poet or a painter.}

^{Being both muddies audiences, and discredits one or the other.”}

^{Actually, Blake didn’t say that. i am lost.}

^{is it possible to love after what has happened?}

^{the rage, hurt, disappointment of betrayal.}

^{my ex still stalks}

^{as recently as two mornings ago,}

^{all her exaggerations, over-reactions, fury.}

^{Why so desperate to return to crime scene?}

^{An admission of her own guilt?}

^{Excessive compulsive wound licking (psychogenic alopecia)?}

^{Another excuse for getting drunk?}

^{When we waited for the elevator going down}

^{You said, “Let’s just get this over with.”}

^{i understood completely.}

^{i, who worships my own death.}

^{i, who pisses on my own grave.}

^{i, who gets bored faster than speed of light.}

^{i, who suspects killing around every corner.}

^{i, who sleeps restless.}

^{i, who worries.}

^{i, who loves women.}

^{i, who does not understand women.}

^{i, who is a woman.}

^{i, who bangs the dude in L.A. to advance my career.}

^{i, who is a nobody.}

^{i, a man with no place to stand.}

^{i, who belongs to a family of}

^{blustering flirts, flatterers,}

^{kidders, thieves.}

^{We sit at the table,}

^{monkey-wrenching hand over fist lives.}

^{Forget about the eyes.}

^{Watch the fingers.}

^{Don’t listen to the speeches.}

^{Words are intentional distractions.}

^{Where’s your wallet?}

^{Gypsies? No, we’re not gypsies,}

^{more upper-crusty, yes, very well-connected secrets.}

^{Do the names Dante, or Cervantes, or Nabokov mean anything to you?}

^{No, none of them are our kin,}

^{but we know people who know people,}

^{infidelities in very high places.}

^{All i’m saying is,}

^{once you reach a certain level,}

^{we’re all family.}

^{i will make success happen,}

^{with or without you.}