Cord Moreski

And if not this then when?
When will we ever feel it?
You and I in the car
to get away from it all
after the long day beat
the piss out of us again

singing along to
“Just What I Needed”
at the top of our lungs
like we were in some sort
of ’80s time machine

for once let’s not fuss
about the goddamn destination
it’ll find us sooner or later
just like it always does
for now turn up the volume
and let’s scream if only
for just this moment

louder than the politics
and the cancers and the bombs
louder than the time clocks
and the landlords and the severed hearts
louder than the addictions
and the ghosts and the fuckups
louder than the couldhavebeens
and the maybes and the nevers

and don’t worry if you
can’t remember all the words
we’ll just make it up as we go
and gun right into this night
gun right into this moment
still singing still screaming
as if it were all meant
to last forever.

Blunt guts discarded
along the kitchen counter

toilet lid busted in half
on the bathroom floor

fire damage in the pantry
next to the refrigerator
tagged with graffiti

and naked pinup posters
cover fist craters
in the hallway walls.

You have the last supper—
a chuck steak cooked to
the temperature of moo

and some boxed red wine
you drink from a styrofoam cup—
before you finally
have to turn over your key.

It’s safe to say
you’re not getting
the security deposit back.

They resented us
when we rented on their block
scoffed at my parents’ occupations
made fun of our outdated cars
felt charitable after they purged
old clothes from their closets
that eventually became ours

now I see their kids
all grown up like me
at bars or on social media
working the same tired jobs
driving the same model cars
feeling the same familiar pain

but I know that
if they ever asked for help
I’d still give them
their shirt off my back.