he yelled, “don’t try to be so fucking brave!”
that night i almost fell off the train tracks
“you are the wreck i always have to save.”

driving ‘round,  we’d destroy suburb air waves
with sonic youth, singing, my hair flying, black
he’d grin, “kim gordon’s not even that brave.”

he was the kind of guy who’d always cave
from two 40’s, sloppy smashed, shoulders slack
always a drunken wreck for me to save

he came to me in crumpled forfeit, slave
to his father’s demands & stern attacks,
a grim, “i’ll never know how to be brave.”

this was our friendship.  & yet he still craved
more, lips against mine & as he pulled back
a weak, “i’m the wreck that you always save.”

the problem at the end is that i gave
all i had, yet i knew he’d always lack
i left, he said, “you’re not so fucking brave!”
i spat, “you’re just a wreck that i can’t save."