Pack Your Shadow

You want to

say goodbye

to everyone

you know and why.

I can't say

it's a good thing,

but it can—

can be done.

~

People need people

most of the time,

but when peace

and patience—

they run out,

you may wish to

separate yourself.

Son, I can help.

~

You can either

burn those ties,

let the smoke do your talking,

scorch the earth—

leave them coughing on your name.

Or simply, quietly,

walk away—

no blaze,

no glory,

just dust.

~

Whether a killer or sinner,

or a broken husband

from a broken home,

the reasons may be different—

but son, the ending's always

the same.

~

As we sat, he told me his tale:

"Raised in California,

Made in North Dakota,

trailed out east like cattle.

I was struggling for so long.

~

Met my girl, truck stop princess.

Shotgun wedding — wedded bliss?

Passion turned, fast, to desolation.

Joy and happiness

turned to despair.

~

For a while,

things — they were rosy.

She was a diamond

in my rough.

But the differences

kept piling ash

on our burning

fire of love.

~

I can't say I'm—

proud of what I did.

Her sister,

sitting pretty in pink...

My girl deserved

so much more

than I could give.

'Stead, I took

all I could."

~

So, I looked to him

with a cursory glance.

Take it from me, son,

I said in earnest:

Your spirit’s frayed.

I can see it, son—

why you’d want to

pack your shadow

and disappear.

~

Pawn the ring,

sell your truck,

change your name—

the name they used to

yell across the yard.

Some nights, you might hear her.

Most, you’ll disappear.

*

Thanks for reading!

Author's Notes: This is my first entry for the Instructions for Disappearing Challenge. I took inspiration for the format of this from Bruce Springsteen's sublime album Nebraska. An album that I have listened to at least once or twice every week for a good couple of months. Needless to say, not autobiographical.

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