D. B. DEVILLIERS

I’m terribly afraid
so very afraid all the time, see
I can throw a punch and I can
fire a pistol and I can drink
more than anyone I’ve ever known
and those are some things I’m afraid of.
I guess it takes a lot to not.

Here are some of the things I can’t do:
I unfortunately cannot catch a bullet
and if someone punched me in the gut with conviction right now I’d probably go down
and if I stop drinking right now
I might potentially seize on the ground
Dustin, maybe fifth time is the
charm, maybe, they’ll teach me a little
hope

I think I used to know
I was young once
I was eleven years old
I stepped up to the plate and I
swung as hard as I could
and the ball sailed by, a foot above the
bat, and a second after I
swung it

out
the coach said, they don’t have
umps in little league usually
I had no arm, and I had no swing
and I wasn’t going to argue

and I got the ball! this now was basketball
and I ran like hell, I’m not sure anyone
ever felt like they ran so fast
and I shot it
but I was on the wrong side of the court
and anyways I missed the layup

then I was a swimmer
and that, I could actually do
the simple repetitive motions
no team, no coordination, just
move through the water

when I finally got good I was a sprinter
I swam in high school, got my jacket and
all that
I swam the fifty and one hundred freestyle
and also the b-team relays but
the fifty was my best
junior year I meditated on a
23 point for months
and at districts I dove in
(my dive was awful, as was my streamline, and my
flipturn, but I am strong, and I am stubborn, and
I always fucking fight

I pulled a 25.5, which isn’t even too bad
I took third in the second heat or
second in the third or some shit

the guy who won swam a 20 point
which is spectacular
so I introduced myself and congratulated
“Fast Eddy,” it said on his warm-
up jacket
a freshman
skinny little lanky kid, best kinda swimmer

if I remember right, he won states
seemed like a nice guy
he was proud
as he well shoulda been

the next year, I didn’t swim

do we ever get over ourselves? Does
childhood ever really end? And I’m not
talking about decorating Christmas trees and
bike rides with friends, I mean
do we ever stop thinking about the races we lost
the swings we missed
and some things we kinda remember
kinda forget
the root of it all
things too awful to
remember, to forget, to write about,
to tell your parents, they said
not to, right
and they’re the grownup
but that’s a poem for another day
and in any case
I don’t even know if it was real

I had a sales job once, some half a
pyramid scheme sort of thing when I was
eighteen
and my close rate was damn near ninety percent and
I remember every sale I missed
but only a couple that I made

I worked at a resort too, super cool job
and I remember every single awkward inter-
action I ever had
and very few of the ones where I really helped
the guests have the wonderful
vacation they were paying
through the nose for.
But it was a cool job, that
I remember.

there were some things I was good at
as a kid:
I could take tests
I could write essays
and for whatever reason for the most part
people seemed to want to like me
but nobody really cheers for all that

my big awkward uncoordinated ass was
trying to drive some golf balls today off my
parents’ front lawn
They’re letting me crash here for a couple
days and
it’s kinda therapeutic

one I smacked really good, like I nailed it
couple hundred yard drive prolly, if the
trees weren’t in the way
but the next one
my dad had come out just to see what the
hell I was up to
he stood for a minute watching
I put the ball on the tee and I swung four times
missed completely, each one

then I went inside and we watched a
Christmas movie
and I wrote this poem.