Onsbe—Already Gone. 2005

Onsbe—Already Gone. 2005

Onsbe: alone, was the only one who would
stand with me now. He's the only one with
those eyes; looking through me, like that.

I just want it to be the fifteenth already
now. This is the bravest of them all, the one
that pitches himself out into the blackness.

Leaving us all here to scrape up the debris.
Let us measure that pitch.
His voice echoes laughter through my mind
& it's just reminants.

It's an impossiblity to leave that behind &
remain still. Not moving–frozen.

There was an Onsbe on the paper that I had signed.
I glanced up & he smiled at me—after I noticed the
strength of his name. I had forgotten about it
until I saw it projected on that screen.

Why is it that they can weep openly & we just sit
and pat our tears. Are they closer to the source,
closer to what?

And I have to say what I won't do anymore.
And he just has to be himself. And leaves us
here alone with each other.

I wish that he saw us making love–moving closer.
Ever closer.

But that's impossible. He was one step in front.
He always was. He lived out there.
He's still flying forward.
He's early.

This is a chant for Onsbe.
This is a song for us all.

They left my man standing by himself.
He never left him, tall. Gleeming upwards.
No one else can stand like that–that straight.
We see the same, together.

No one could have beaten my man, except Onsbe.
He would have beaten him now.
He would have jumped, celebrating his defeat.
He would have jumped on his shoulders.
My man would have held him. And I wonder,
does he realize that we've all beaten him now.
Our phone would have rung–steady.

A frozen emptiness that was barely wedged
into that box. My hand held his arm,
in pieces. They were jagged.
I always just wanted to climb in there with them–to meld.
My lips kissed his skin–cold rubber.

Peering over the crowd, I saw her bend to him & kiss his lips.
They aren't his anymore–he's long gone.
She stood & honored them, in a suit. Straight & smooth.

Her lace sweater, spread as she leaned down.
His knees fell & he let out.
Two men held him on both sides.
My man fell into my lap–shaking.
His brother, his twin.

And I'm still here. We're here.
Sitting in a new garage, with all the equipment
that's not used anymore.

A race track that
shouldn’t be on pavement. It's not forgiving–
it goes down again.

But really, it should be right next to him. Layed out.
He actually wants to be there, next in line.
This didn't stop anyone, but, it would have stopped him.
He would sat down when my man told him to–he would have bent
that stature–he would have slidden out flat.

And yet, can I leave now? It's dark. But there's one more round

of cackles and tears. And we're,—already gone.

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