Thursday, June 26, 2008

Apples and Oranges

She is simple, she is sweet,
she buys shoes to hide her feet,

I am complex, I am strong,
unafraid of being wrong.

She is funny, makes me laugh,
stands five four, maybe a half,

I am witty, I can weep,
passions rooted twelve feet deep.

She is happy, rarely sad,
cheeks get red when she gets mad,

I am quiet, I am wise,
I hide nothing in my eyes.

She likes music and ballet,
likes her man to lead the way.

I like beauty, truth and grace.
I like my man; he likes my face.

Thursday, June 19, 2008


Just as it has always been,
so it rears its head again;
the blackest day in all of June,
tired as the frozen moon.

I do not fault the wishers-well,
who do what noble hearts compel;
who by blood or benevolence
love me past their own good sense.

It’s not the aging that I mind,
the going bald or going blind,
it’s not the specter of the void
that always has me so annoyed.

It’s how each anniversary
recalculates the waste of me,
broadening the gulf between
the failure and his fading dream.

Let me leave them with a joke;
blowing dancing flames to smoke,
wishing to asphyxiate,
choking on my birthday cake.

Thursday, June 12, 2008

You Bet My Life

All the way past Santa Fe
and down to San Anton,
I chucked the maps in Phoenix
with your letter and my phone.

You’re somewhere in the valley
with some thickneck from your gym,
staring out the window
as he tells you about him.

Oklahoma is OK,
Arkansas is sad,
a bartender in Shreveport
says he used to know my dad.

You’re somewhere by an ocean
with some buddy from your work,
going Dutch to dinner
as he tells you I’m a jerk.

And I’m blowing through Kentucky,
rolling out through Tennessee,
a diamond in my pocket
and a bottle on my knee;

in your best friend’s apartment
crying in your chardonnay -
here’s hoping your next hand is better
than the one you threw away.

Thursday, June 5, 2008

Red Hots and Hard

stuck on a stick,
gets a lick,

sugar sweet
and cherry red,
rot your teeth
right out your head,

who wouldn’t take
a finger to the
birthday cake?

Passed around
and getting thinner,
just enough
to spoil dinner,

wrapper blown
along the street,
gone as quickly
as they meet,

can catch an eye,
another hunger
passes by;

tears pooled in
a chocolate cup,
can’t fill them up.