Where I’m At

I am awake, focused, at attention…
Watching you toss and turn
Chasing phantoms.
I know how unreal they are-
But I can’t reach in and help you…dreamer.
You are in a state without capacity.
You are not where I’m at.

Your voice rings out
If you can call it that.
Tone deaf- the other members of the choir
Exchange glances with me.
We are not all one big happy family.
This is a choir.
There’s an audience.
We have a responsibility to make music-
Rather than just sounds.
There is a difference
That you don’t have the capacity
Of ever understanding.
You are not where I’m at.

You pour out your words-
And call it poetry.
Baffled, I consult with English scholars
Who provide my validation.
Scanning your words in depth
With the Oxford dictionary-
Translating what you have actually said
By the meaning of your words.
Comic relief before we return to the real stuff…
That requires the capacity…
You are not where I’m at.

After such romance-
Knowing a dream come true -
You break up with me,
And everyone is happy- for me.
You leave me for your alcoholic neighbor
Who smokes cigarette butts
Thrown out of car windows.
But after all our time you just didn’t love me anymore…
So what were you supposed to do?
It does no good for me to know the answer.
You were supposed to love me.
You even made that your vow.
But to love somebody
Requires a capacity…
You are not where I’m at.

We seem to go in life
Where we have the capacity to go.
To know what we have the capacity to know,
To understand what we have the capacity to understand.
I just wish you had the capacity to be…
Where I’m at.

John H. Bidwell