Country Club

Last night
I walked in the moon light
Up fairway hills
Through sand traps
With my friend
Discussing his situation.

He has come
To me because
He believes that I have
Insight
That I do not
Judge
That I have been
Through things –
Acts of passion
Instances of pain
And yet
Still stand…
Something
That he
Wants to be able to do
(Stand
That is)
But
He’s unable
To get footing
Confused
Not sure
Being drawn into
Something
By a force he can not
Understand
To commit acts
That he condemns.

He loves his wife
I know this
Because
He keeps repeating it
Along with how
Great
His life is…
The beautiful children
The career
The house
The toys
But
Still
There is a girl
Back
At the club house
10 years
His younger
Married
To
Another
That when they are
Together
Nothing else matters.
There is no wife,
No children
No career
No house
No toys
Just
Her
With blue-green eyes
That flow
Like a river
Into
Something
He
Is
Only
Barely
Resisting.

He doesn’t understand
How
He can be
Here
With
Her.

He wants to do
The ”right” thing
But
Just can’t bring
Himself
To understand what
That is…

He loves his wife
Yet
He wants to be lost
In those
Blue-green eyes.

His world is
Spinning
He has lost his
Anchor.

On the eighteenth hole
He cries.

Not
Because he has gone to far
To turn back
But
Because
He knows that he is not
Strong
Enough
To keep from moving
Forward
Soon
To do
What he condemns.

I can see it
Through the moon light
In his eyes
He says,
“You know
It’s sick
But
While
I’ve
Been
Contemplating
This,
I appreciate my wife
Eve more
When I’m with her.
It’s
Hard
To
Explain.”

And I say,
“No
It is not,
It is a common thing
To realize how valuable
Something
Is
When
You stand
To loose
It all,
But
My friend
Look where you’re at
Your bet is down
Your dice are cast
There really is nothing
You can do.”

He nods
Accepting
This excuse
Needing
To believe
It is truth.

I can’t bring
Myself to tell
Him that in
This game
There are never any winners.

I pat his shoulder
As we walk into
The window light
Of the club house,
“I’ll be here, ” I say
Meaning
To help him
Up
Because I realize
That at
This point
The only way he can
Stand
Is
To
Finish
The fall.

by Byron Headrick

Comments (7)

There is such dark genius to his writings that draws me to read and reread this poem... song... this comment on the state of mankind.
...........super nice, a stunning piece of work and honestly in my opinion the poet's best ★
Leonard Cohen translated Federico Garcia Lorca's ''Pequeno Vals Vienes'' (Little Viennese Waltz) from Spanish to English and made of it a true song, with music.. (see below)
Here is the original poem in Spanish, by Federico Garcia Lorca (1898-1936) , translated by Leonard Cohen as “Take This Waltz”. ______________________________________ ''Pequeno Vals Vienes'' - (''Little Viennese Waltz'') En Viena hay diez muchachas, un hombro donde solloza la muerte y un bosque de palomas disecadas. Hay un fragmento de la manana en el mueso de la escarcha Hay un salon con mil ventanas Ay, ay, ay, ay, Toma este vals con la boca cerrada Este vals, este vals, este vals, de si, de muerte y de conac que moja su cola en el mar Te quiero, te quiero, te quiero, con la butaca y el libro muerto, por el melancolico pasillo en el oscuro desvan del lirio, en nuestra cama de la luna y en la danza que suena la tortuga. Ay, ay, ay, ay, Toma este vals con la boca cerrada En Viena hay cuatro espejos donde juegan tu boca y los ecos, Hay una muerte para piano, que pinta de azul a los muchachos. Hay mendigos por los tejados Hay frescas guirnaldas de llanto Ay, ay, ay, ay, Toma este vals con la boca cerrada Porque te quiero, te quiero, amor mio, en el desvan donde juegan los ninos, sonando viejas luces de Hungria por los rumores de la tarde tibia, viendo ovejas y lirios de nieve por el silencio oscuro de tu frente. Ay, ay, ay, ay, Toma este vals con la boca cerrada En viena bailare contigo con un disfraz que tenga cabeza de rio. Mira que orillas tengo de jacintos Dejare mi boca entre tus piernas, mi alma en fotografias y azucenas, y en las ondas oscuras de tu andar quiero, amor mio, amor mio, dejar, violin y sepulcro, las cintas del vals. ______________________________________ Lorca lived in New-York City in 1929-1930. There he wrote the collection ''Poeta en Nueva-York'', which includes ''Pequeno Vals Vienes'' (''Little Viennese Waltz'') .
This is a beautiful piece of work.
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