Letters to a Nurse #21

Photo by Ethan Bethune

I wonder if anyone ever really escapes their origins?

Do we run continuously?

I think we are who we are

Never mind the what

So long as The Who in us overcomes,

Can we overcome?

I woke up and reached for you

But you’re not here

The bed is empty

I was afraid

What if years had passed

Would it be the same

Without you here?

I was afraid to look in the mirror and see

If I was older

Would I remember the taste of your lips?

The curve of your hips

Your eyes burning through me

I think my soul

Looks for you

In every room

No one else is you…

Cooking and marriage

I don’t know if I should be disappointed or not in what I’m about to say,

But here goes one for the family …

if I knew I was going to die tomorrow ,

I don’t know that anything would change that drastically in my schedule…

That’s the big rewrite for us writers isn’t?

The white whale

How would we write about dying?

Maybe it’s because I used to spend so much time writing about it when I was younger

Maybe it was the depression

Maybe it was my youth

Or maybe it’s the fact that I have Crohn’s disease

And I’ve been hospitalized several times because of it…

But I like to think that now

I’m living in such a way

At such a place

That every day

I’m just happy to be here

I just want to throw a dinner party that Nora Ephron would be proud of…

I always return to her essays and books every other year.

I’m not for it, but I think it’s pretty safe to put people on pedestals once they’re dead.

She’s easily one of my very favorite people on earth and I never even met her.

I like coffee

I love my wife and my dogs

I like cooking

I like butter,

You can never have too much butter

Or olive oil

I like coffee in the morning

Hardwood floors

Cooking, did I already say that? Well, cooking is like really great sex.

I’ll cook for you before and after.

Reading a really great book

Broadway

Everyone should see broadway

It changes you

Or it should

Art is so important

It’s important that we do not sound like everyone else

That we don’t fall into an echo

I like a really great drink.

An old fashioned,

A brown derby

A Manhattan

I like Sunday’s

Sleeping in…

I know you’re not supposed to rely on movies for expectations of love

But I think I like this bar I go to, it helps me write,

But it’s also, because there’s this table that I sat at…

It was the first “date” if you will,

Me and my wife went on…

I always think about seeing her walk in

And I knew I wanted to watch her enter rooms for the rest of my life…

I know I can be hard edged

Sarcastic and a little bit cruel

But she’s like dark energy

She’s seductive without even trying

And she is sexy as hell in heels

she’s also every Sunday morning

Every breakfast in bed

The perfect hot coffee

And a walk in the park

She’s the Italian restaurant on the corner

She’s midnight in the rain

She’s sitting there beside me

When they have to put a tube down my throat

Because of a flare up

She’s there on the front

Smiling

When I get published

She’s got all the love

I can ever hold in these hands

I’ve seen people come and go

And she wants me

And I want her

Year after year

I know what I like

I know what I want

And I

Like her

I love her

I want her.

Letters to a Nurse #20

All of her hair, it’s always been red and her lips, they’ve always been red. Her temper, her passion, has always been red. Her fists have always been made.

And I’m lost, when she lets her hair down. When our eyes meet, it feels just like coming home. Touch for touch, a new star being born,

Meet me in the night, morning comes too early, we haven’t got time to wait, we can walk through the fire, I feel like I’m forgetting parts of you my lips need to touch.

Will another year pass? How many hours are in a day? Everything burns blue when she is away…and it rains every day.

Everything in this house burns red when she is near.

-regardingsamuel.com

Letters to a Nurse 19

It’s light here

This space

We’ve made together

It’s light here

Our backs against the weather

what we have

We’ve made

Against the winter

Against the night

This space

Just for us….

Adulthood may be dark

The future of our discontent

But right here

At home

Right in the now

This moment

Today

the ingredients

For all our tomorrows

Quickly becoming yesterday

It’s light

With you

It’s always light

In mid November

Leaves on the ground

Overcast

gray sun

First frost

It’s warm

It’s light

It’s Home

-Regardingsamuel.com

Ethan Bethune

Letters to a Nurse #18

maybe the past has a way of reminding us

We’re not that far from who we used to be

I just wanted to say

Thank you for loving me

You’re a good nurse

A good friend

And when I’m with you

I feel so lucky

And when I’m not with you

I miss you…

I miss you…

The bed is empty without you here

Champagne can only do so much

I miss talking with you

Someone should really

Tell the others

What marriage is really like

How you have to grow

The unspoken rules

What you find yourself carrying

And how we change

no one else will do

Not a soul in a room

There’s only you…

Starlight

All the flowers grow

At night

And

The roots

Grow deep

And we are not saints

The dust doesn’t just stick

To our shoes

In the morning light

It’s behind our eyes

It’s in our lungs

And we have the cough to prove

Maybe I’m not a poet

But I see you across the room

Hair fire red

tougher than the rest

A fast machine

When the lights go out

The moon in your eyes

Giving the wolves

A reason to scream

You’ll make me believe –

But that’s not why I’m here

Because 6 out of ten nights

I just want to be close to you

And I’ll walk the line

This isn’t us against the world

You’re the only world I’ll ever need

As long as you love me

I’d walk with you

Every night

And we would wait as the gardens grow

And the earth is reborn

-regardingsamuel.com

Photo origin – Ethan Bethune

Letters to a Nurse #17

Minimalistic

Ballistic

My home

My love

My heart

She walks-

She walks

The light

It follows her every move

While others say

“Did you see

It’s all there

In my story.”

The world now lives

In a very real “status quo”

A newsfeed with anything but news.

Everyone’s soul is for sale

I

I pulled the plug

I cut myself free

Freedom is peace

My soul

My home

My love

She walks

And the light follows

Her every move

And in the night –

(for her eyes only)

We have no stories to tell

No souls to sell.

-regardingsamuel.com