Retrograde

Living in the past...
Yes, I have my body in the present—
touchable, soft—
but my mind is elsewhere,
inhabiting a series of spectres,
my former selves.
I want, want, want nothing more
than mind to jump to the present,
To exist in the present,
NOW.
I want to walk jovially into the future.
The hard-to-reach corners of my dreams
bending toward me.
I grab them!
But only in my imagination,
not on the concrete sidewalks,
obscured by misty indecision.
I am retrograde
in my mind.
As if harsh lines of my jaw
fade to softer features......
assurance slips out from
under me,
romantic interests pop up
suddenly and
I shout out, I shout out
I WISH I COULD TAKE IT BACK.
Silence,
then the cicadas,
constant annoying buzz
on the hot summer nights.
I am alone, save them
and my mind begins to wander elsewhere,
down the knotted paths
to my home life,
troubles in the family,
disordered life, depression,
and then it all comes out,
everything of the past...
It just explodes and all around me are the pieces,
all around me are the pieces
but I want nothing more than to move forward,
to buck the retrograde,
witness the spectres dissolve,
hold the novel
I have always wanted to pen
in my soft hands, the rustle of the pages...
but I can't seem to figure out how to do that
and
nobody else has answers.
There seems nothing there to give me the kick.
Only more silence now,
the cicada hum lost to
memories of the past,
the body without the present mind,
the mind without the present body.
And I ask myself - why?