Friday, May 28, 2010


Near the end of our marriage, for some fairly good reasons, my wife decided she couldn’t trust me to be on her side. It apparently didn't matter to her that she was a depressed, despairing completely non-functional alcoholic at the time, who couldn't get out of bed most of the time. Part of that transformed me into a violent man. I don’t mean that I was really violent. I mean that as far as she was concerned I was a violent man. Pretty much everyone in my life thought this exceedingly absurd.

Even now I have no way to explain all that but I have more than one time been burdened with the false impressions that others hold of me. There was another time when a small group of people considered me a predator on women. There is a man not in my direct circle but nearby who still thinks of me this way and that whole thing took place in 2003. He has never seen anything sufficient to change his mind. Interestingly, the women in my group all disagree as far as I know. I have no idea how to rectify these things. Once they get started they have a life of their own.

This poem is a conflation of several moments in my life rather than a description of one specific experience.


Aw Hell, and it was
me just a little angry...
Damn! Just somewhat hot.
There you go again
taking things so hard, so mean,
as if I would strike
you down like he did.

I'm just an old teddy bear,
all three hundred pounds.

June 1, 2009 12:32 PM


  1. It's sad what being drunk can do to otherwise good people. You convey this so well Christopher. That time was an episode. I hope people can judge you now through a different lens. Sad though that some insist on sticking with their fixed views.

  2. "burdened with the false impressions that others hold..."

    What is unfortunate is that rarely can we correct them. We are forced to live with the knowing we are falsely accused, but not assimilate the label. It is not always easy. I try now to just sit back and watch it unfold, for control is an illusion as we all know. Turn on the set and watch my own drama, and I it's audience.

    I loved your poem. It came with a heavy sigh and a shoulder shrug I could see more than anything else. It came with a feeling. Familiar.

  3. Indeed, there is no way to fight these things. We learn it over and over watching the "Hollywood" news. You can always phrase things in impossible ways.

    The classic version is "when did you stop beating your wife?" That sort of left handed accusation is virtually impossible to remove once it is made.

  4. I find that even stripped down to two loving people in one room, things can go awry. Hell, even with just me standing there, misunderstandings abound. There is no control, there is only the effort to be sound in yourself, and the effort to not judge others. It is not easy. That's why we always need for love and forgiveness.



The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.

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