Borrowed

I don’t know if it’s lucky to live on borrowed time. 

Mama says it is—

Pieces together fragments of 

Haphazard shards of words—

Says your life is like a book from the library 

You check out but have to give back by a certain date. 

I asked her what happens if you don’t give it back. 

She says they give you an overdue fee. 

(I wonder if I’m overdue sometimes, so I asked) 

“How do you know if you’re overdue?” 

She said, “You’ll know. You overborrowed. You can feel that ache in your bones.” 

Lying is like an overdue book, she said— 

You check it out and the longer you keep it, 

The more the fines rack up. 

Did I lie to you, dear,

When I said you were my everything? 

I feel it in my bones—

That overdue feeling

And dear, 

(I want it to) 

Disappear. 

I borrow money sometimes 

(Most times, I) 

Want a hole to hide in—

(To die in)

My home would be nice 

If only I felt safe there, 

With all the mice running around— 

They own a share 

Of my soul in their tiny frail bodies

(As they rest) 

In the deep corners of my house, 

Holding every hurt 

They’ve ever heard 

Through the walls

(—Every scream, 

Every sob, 

Every blow.)

There’s a bottle 

I owe a lot to 

(That I’d hate to pay back)

Every drop I drink 

I have to give a drop of blood 

In interest. 

I don’t wanna pay it back, dear, 

Living on borrowed time

I’m never gonna pay back—

(If I could help it I’d) 

Stay in this place of false freedom 

Til the Death Collector comes

And I have to cash in my 

Debts. 

I wanna be lucky, dear, 

And borrow forever 

And not get caught 

(Like those times we would) 

Run from the cops 

In my trashed 4runner,

(A forerunner, I’m sure of an older me still running from the) 

Booze beading on our chins 

As it dribbles from our mouths. 

Is it lucky, dear if we don’t get caught? 

(If we don’t get sober) 

Living on borrowed time 

Til a day when we’re older,

When we’re in separate senior homes,

Sitting in sagging chairs—

Alone, 

(A long way from home as we’re both still) 

Thinking about 

The Us that kissed on a bus, 

The Us that borrowed each others pencils in class 

(And never gave them back)

To find some kind of meaning 

In avoidance. 

Destiny is a funny thing, dear,

Because everything comes due—

(I can borrow all I want—

Why could I never—

Buy myself back from) 

The bottle borrowed me 

From you, 

(and now I can’t keep) 

Piecing together the fragments of a conversation I borrowed 

And how do I pay it

(back?)

I keep borrowing memories from some kind of 

Bank, but eventually, dear 

They’ll come due—

(Just like the beer) 

Will—will you find me just the same? 

(I doubt it—you left me long ago when)

We were kids, and didn’t know math well enough 

To calculate the aftermath

Of the loans we spent, 

The debts we dug

(To our bottles, 

Our banks,

Our families) 

That left us 

(Or maybe just me as) 

Broken, alcoholic, 

(If only the pain wasn’t all chronic…)

And when you left me— 

You borrowed a piece of me—

There’s a rock and a hard place 

(And no space) 

To cry in 

And I’m stuck waiting 

(for my time)

To come due—

You borrowed a piece of me—

(didn’t you?)

For all I borrowed, 

It’ll all come due—

My love’s a piece of me 

You keep in your house 

(On a shelf 

With the borrowed books) 

Collecting dust—

I’m out of luck, 

Out of funds, 

Full of debts, 

But you aren’t

(Save for that time) 

You borrowed a piece of me— 

Count yourself lucky 

(That you’ll never have to give it back)