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The man was doing fine,

But not anymore.

Suddenly he is hours away from dying.

He looks up from his own dying eyes

and meets overflowing love dripping from his wife’s eyes.

On the table near his hospital bed is a photo him and his family, much younger, smiling.

A boy, a girl, and a boy.

She reaches out to him,

Rubs his back,

Strokes his hardly there hair.

He looks up at her.

He starts to speak, but coughs instead.

He gathers himself again, clears his throat.

He says, “Don’t you tell him.”

She sadly asks, “Tell him what?”

“Don’t tell him that every time I heard a car door slam shut in the yard,

I jumped out of my chair and looked out the window,

hoping that he would be walking in.

Don’t tell him that when my phone buzzed,

I would check it in a split second

on the slim chance that it would be a message from him.

Don’t tell him that there are places I couldn’t go without him,

even as I know that there are places

where he now finds it difficult to be with or without me.

Don’t tell him that you know that I have not really enjoyed

a Celtics game

since he left.”

He coughs again and blows phlegm into his handerchief.

He looks up again at his loving wife and devoted mother.

“Don’t tell him how proud I have always been of him

 and how sad I have been

that I am a big part of why he feels pain.

Don’t tell him these things.

Just tell him I love him”

Don’t wonder what you’ll miss when it or they are gone.

Buy the ticket,

See the game,

Go to the concert,

Eat at the greasy spoon

And find a greasier spoon.

Call that friend,

Take that flight,

Even if you stay only two days,

Make the trip.

Do not make the end of your life sentence

A list of regrets

And coulda beens.

Make your own bucket list,

Call it your own damn fuck it list.

Open up the checkbook,

The kids want but don’t need your money.

They need you to be the younger you

Until the older you is gone.

With all that you’ve seen you’d think thought you’d learn

To hold your end up before it collapses.

All that you have could just crash and burn

But what would arise from the ashes.

When you look at him

It’s easy to forget

Just what you should be doing.

You talk much too long

You’re late getting home

Just who do you think that you’re fooling?

When I arrived I knew you’d be there

I told my companion I must beware

As I stood surveying the Quincy Marketplace

Looking for your face.

A face that accompanies me no more

In a place we’d so often been before

We first French kissed in that outside bar

We had gone so far.

You were with a young man that I knew well

And how you were feeling it was too hard to tell

You turned the corner I could not walk a way

Neither of us knew what to say.

I’ll never forget the day we met face to face

In the Quincy Marketplace.

What is wrong with myself today,

Why can’t I think of something clever to say,

Why do I feel so ill at ease,

Why do I feel I have to beg you pretty please?

Pretty Please

What happened to my self confidence,

Why is what I’m saying not making sense,

What does my stomach turn and ache,

What do I feel like something’s gonna break?

Who can tell when they look at me,

When they do, what do they see,

Why do I feel so ill at ease,

Why do I feel I have to beg you pretty please?

Pretty Please

Am I wearing my heart on my sleeve,

Am I someone that you can believe,

Do you see the hurt in my eyes,

Is there something I should realize?

Do you know what I should do,

Is there something I can ask from you,

Why do I feel so ill at ease,

Why do I feel I have to beg you pretty please?

Pretty Please

I won’t need to marble casket

To sleep well when I pass away.

I won’t need no pretty cushions

Just a plain wooden box will be ok.

It doesn’t have to be polished or varnished or such.

Just a plain wooden box will make my day.

Bury me in a wooden box,

That’s all I ask you for,

I like the smell of maple,

But I love mahogany more.

A flat rock will do for my gravestone,

Just so you can read my name,

Shiny, dull, big or small,

Reckon there all the same,

And do this under any accords,

Even if I reach fortune and fame.

Bury me in a wooden box,

That’s all I ask you for,

I like the smell of maple,

But I love mahogany more.

And the darling little children,

Need not come to my grave.

For they’ll not understand what it’s all about.

You know there gonna misbehave.

And you’ll get impatient but be careful,

They’ll walk in the footsteps you pave.

Bury me in a wooden box,

That’s all I ask you for,

I like the smell of maple,

But I love mahogany more.

We have crossed the Rubicon

And you know we must go on.

There can be no flight.

We have made that big mistake.

It’s in the chances we take.

That lead us to our fight.

            A bridge that we’ve crossed,

            A bridge that might burn,

            A road off of which there is no turn.

            We have crossed the Rubicon

We don’t know but this faux pas,

Could take us very far,

Where we’ve never been.

And for all the worries we entertain,

Think of all that we might gain.

Please think again my friend.

A bridge that we’ve crossed,

            A bridge that might burn,

            A road off of which there is no turn.

            We have crossed the Rubicon

Why do I write these songs for you?

They don’t impress you anyway.

I mean so little to you now,

You could forget me anyday.

And though the words come easy.

The feelings hit so hard.

And for me to cry while writing them.

Is not so very odd.

You’re the only woman who can cut me this deeply.

And this often.

But stab wounds are dangerous, they make people cautious.

And not want to walk done certain streets.

They make people scared.

And they kill.

Yes if too much blood gets spilt,

They kill.

Why do I write these songs for you?

They don’t impress you anyway.

I mean so little to you now,

You could forget me anyday.

And though the words come easy.

The feelings hit so hard.

And for me to cry while writing them.

Is not so very odd.

You’ve got your old but sturdy boots.

You’ve got your big white sails,

You’ve got a yearning for some truth.

He’s wishing you smooth sailing and happy trails.

He would not beg you stay for his sake.

But the road opens up before your eyes.

He respects you for the chances you’ll take,

But his lonely heart’s a breaking so he cries.

            If you must leave, leave now.

            Take your worthless ass away from me.

            Go found your own goddamned solution.

            Leave my life, you are pollution.

He grimaces at his choice of the hard line.

He tries to cushion it with grace.

He tries to make you stay one more time.

As you walk away you kiss his face.

He would not beg you stay for his sake.

But the road opens up before your eyes.

He respects you for the chances you’ll take,

But his lonely heart’s a breaking so he cries.

            If you must leave, leave now.

            Take your worthless ass away from me.

            Go found your own goddamned solution.

            Leave my life, you are pollution.

I used to get attention from the ladies.

They wouldn’t leave me alone.

Now they don’t see me the same,

I spend my time alone.

I even messed up relationships,

For the girls who pursued me were nice,

But now I don’t get a second look

And the first glance is cold as ice.

I guess I’m just not cute anymore.

They don’t tend to see me the same.

I never get to dance.

I should have married when I had the chance.

Because I guess I’m just not cute anymore.

I wish that I could turn back time,

To the women I knew who were true.

And if I knew where you were tonight,

I’d even turn back to you.

Because I wonder what it was you saw,

The no other woman can see,

I know I meant a whole lot to you,

Only wish you’d meant that much to me.

Because I guess I’m just not cute anymore.

They don’t tend to see me the same.

I never get to dance.

I should have married when I had the chance.

Because I guess I’m just not cute anymore.