Fragment 49

by Gary Percesepe

We step and do not step into the same rivers; we are and are not  ~ Heraclitus



What I took to be a man weeping 

in a blue suit turned out to be the president

ogling a teenage contestant


and just when I thought I'd taken the

last nail I received your voicemail

and felt its rope of distance 


tugging me back to you-- where I'd stay 

forever if given a choice, like a carpet of

yellow roses rooted in your skin 


but walking west what I thought was a

crime in the making turned out to be the

symphony warming up on 57thStreet


and I recognize the need to climb down

from the cross, stop thinking of all the losses

and remember that you're the best cutman, baby


and with you in my corner I'm the perfume

of warm summer rain & when the blood gets

redder you get busier with Vaseline, Q tips, and ice


but what I thought was a calendar of the years of

my marriage turned out to be a boat filled with bilge

listing starboard on the wrong side of the Sound


and what I thought was a good Belgian 

beer turned out to be a suitcase of old

porn on the porch


and what looked like a shelf of cologne

turned out to be a sweater of spiders

and what I thought to be the right hand


of God was only Eddie Haskell grilling 

hot dogs in my backyard, his narrow

feet jammed into broken sandals


and as for what was once thought to be

the will of God, well that turned out to be 

a tag for twenty percent on the next pedicure.