It is all the usual frustration, but the music is playing, and there
is yummy food someone bought for me, who’s been encouraging me to sing.
And somehow, her words have gotten through to me
in a way that I had never thought of and I am listening to the music on my CD

and thinking of the piano and my nephew whom I gave a piano lesson to
and loves music, and how now I have to deal with my blood
family alone. And how terrifying that is, and how much unresolved
terror I have of them, and of losing them. How much terror
I have of losing everybody. How she told me I set her off before
I knew it and I had no idea what she was talking about and BOOM!

It makes sense, suddenly, I see her there, asking for help, in a language
I actually understand and I realize this whole time she was on fire and I
was spraying her with a fine mist of gasoline…
And no, this doesn’t change anything or save anything,
or anything like that, but suddenly

I realize I have hurt her worse than I’ve hurt anyone in my life
and she was the one I loved more than anyone at all,
and she has got to know right now,
and I know I am doing this I-5 Conference thing,

but the road is giving me nothing right now but this one rest stop

and no phone signal, so I am walking from table
to table the bathroom to dog park finally getting enough on a signal
to text I am sorry, so sorry,

I want her to know now that I am sorry,
that I finally get it. That I had no idea before, and even if it’s too late now,
even if this doesn’t change us, I want it to change you, to know

you got through to me, finally, and maybe you’ll get through
to someone else in the future and I am pulling over at the Firebaugh rest stop,

which is actually two stops, almost perfectly matched,
each with its own bathrooms and vending machines and dog parks and picnic tables,
but one is Northbound and the other South
and between them there are four lanes of fire back and forth
over the speed limit, the sound barrier,
the speed of light, if could be angels with flaming swords, for all it matter.

I just know that I want my voice these words to reach her,
to say I get it, I am sorry, I could not have known without breaking up
and fuck you, who tell me all about love being a journey shared.

If only I had known. But I did not.
If only I had known. But I could not.

If only it had been easier.
If only we had time.

What we cannot cross, what we cannot cross.

There is your wasteland,
there is your soul.