In Memory of Ted (Broken Glass)

Broken glass in the street is music to her ears...he did that for her. Sliding down the pole at the playground and drinking bad wine out of a bag. Tickets at the river and cheap bathing suits...They climb the mountain together. He sees her in ways that no one else can describe...she cannot reach the breach between them when the voices come. She tries to give him her strength but he cannot hear her. He baptizes her in the water with one arm and shows her her worth with words of drunken clarity...The other guy is on the floor in the bathroom and...he is not the one...She knows this and he tells her what she cannot say. They walk through the madness together and she sees the scars...they laugh about tiny obsidian cats so heavy they tear out the pockets of the strongest denim...Don't sell yourself short...She wants to take away the fears and roll them away like black water...for if they had a boat...He doesn't want anyone to hurt her anymore and she doesn't want him to hurt himself...He is her family...She saw what he had done when they took the wrapping paper off his gift...She knows what happens when the darkness comes but cannot give the answer...He sees the love overflowing, needed to be given and that the rest need her to be strong enough but he asks nothing...sitting in a cold tub with a bottle of wine and a cigarette on a hot day, they laugh and tell secrets...click click beep beep...Can we talk about something else...Yet despite circumstances he is always there as he must be...Too many great men have fallen...she cannot bear to watch the demise of another...they run through the jungle like peace frogs and drive until they are out of gas...they both seek elusive peace...one of body, the other of mind...together they find pieces of freedom in voodoo donuts and screaming into the night...in circular conversations and long silences...friends in the darkest of times reaching for the warmth of sunshine and dancing in the pouring rain to worship the harvest that may come...wiping away the tears that stream down her face with the swipe of a calloused finger...he stands up to her demons fearlessly but fears his own...they are feet apart and the voices come. She takes his face in her hands and tries to overpower the darkness and for a moment is successful...but it just keeps coming...she can only stop them in moments when time permits...he promises tomorrow...there is always tomorrow...She can envision the end for she has seen it before and with a prayer on wings begs it not to come. He checks on her and consoles her with the wisdom of ancient grace...she fears that all who truly see her will disappear...for like laughter escaping with smoke too quickly to catch they all have...there is so much more for him...she can only say let us get in the car and drive, they explore unknown destinations and escape the familiar faces and tears filling glasses...there is always tomorrow...sad and funny they meet in dreams and laugh at the madness of the world...she wants to climb under his skin and let him see the beauty in pain and all that could be. Will he see? Maybe...