Another lost weekend.

Friday, I attended "choir practice"
at the motorcycle shop.
We drank beer;
and fabricated on the Bridgeport,
a sleeve to carve the grooves into columns
for JK's cabinet shop.
We are artisans
hiding our skills
beneath flannel shirts
and foul mouths.

Saturday,
We went down to the VFW,
drank beer,
and watched a bluegrass band.
We appreciate
American roots music,
but are not past listening
to Puccini's Turandot.

Sunday,
I was back at the motrocycle shop,
for the swap meet;
where we drank beer
all morning,
and bought and resold
each others shit
until it found it's way back to where it all started.
After the exchanges,
we rode down to the marina,
and drank the afternoon away
watching the rain
come and go,
like our parts and treasures
that we bought and sold
all morning long.

I split away from the group,
during the break in the rain,
to photograph the boats,
stacked like toys in the yard.

It seemed like one good kick,
or shove,
of one support,
and they would all come crashing down.

One good kick,
or shove,
and it could all come crashing down.

And it would, too.
I know this,
because I am living
the effect of such
a callous and uncaring action.

As the rain
can back across the inlet
like a grey veil,
I snuck around the backside of the bar
and watched my friends,
form the other side
of the dirty windows.
They laughed,
and smiled,
and gestured,
with the abandon
of happy souls
drinking a rainy Sunday away.

And I stood
on the outside,
with just abandon.
The feeling,
of being a part of something
that wasn't enough to fill
the hole inside of me.
I'm glad it was raining;
the rain,
thankfully,
hid my tears.
I am good,
at being a part of something,
of everything,
and yet still being alone.

I am good
at being out there,
on the outside.
I am good
at being happy sad.
These are not traits
to be proud of.

But these traits,
have again,
become mine.

Before packing the weekend away,
I sat out back
by the water
listening to Nessun dorma.

"Dilegua, o notte! Tramontate, stelle! Tramontate, stelle! All'alba vincerò! Vincerò! Vincerò!"

And I'll be damned,
if it didn't start raining again.