Tag Archives: sober

Candy Bar

There’s nothing wrong today
so I drove to the dollar store
for a king size candy bar
which I ate entirely by myself
in five minutes or less—
and even though I’d never do
such a thing if I were sober,
I felt like I deserved some sort
of reward for living through
a perfectly mundane afternoon
which could only be improved
by risking the life of everyone
on the road for a chocolate bar
filled with caramel, and make it
back home in time to read
a bedtime story to a kid whose
existence is the sole reason
I haven’t yet found myself
trading in my boredom for
the west coast roads that drip
into the ocean like they can’t
make up their mind if they want
to offer you a view of the edge
or tempt you to drive off of it.

 

DeMaris Gaunt
5-2-16

The Great Escape

Some days
some moments—
(this day
this moment)
I am sober—
I am usually
so sober
I am
imploding
silently—
have imploded
silently
for so long
I can’t make it
anymore
to that ledge—
to that edge
I know
is out there—
if only I could
climb back
to that ledge—
to that edge
I could peek over
and see
how far
I’ve managed
to crawl—
what progress
I have made—
it might make me
want to stay
right where I am
instead of
trying to escape
this room
with its
goddamn door
wide open.

DeMaris Gaunt
10-19-15

Photo Credit:
Allan Baxter