They say every person needs a partner
Every life needs another;
To seek, embrace, complete it.
But I don’t buy into that gypsy philosophy,
Practiced by fools and wayward spirits.
Heart’s weren’t made in a lock-and-key fashion,
Never have I noticed my heart missing
A second half, atrium and ventricle absent.
Love has never soothed my soul’s worries,
Nor has it fixed anything troubling going on.
It’s only brought more worries, more trouble
And more anguish and foolishness.
Synchronicity is overrated because love,
Love makes no sense…
But maybe it doesn’t have to.
Sleep is difficult when the lights are on
And the sun shows its face in the window.
But it’s 5am and the birds chirp loudly
When they first awake to call to their kin.
I’ve been up all night writing a draft
Of a note of an essay to someone,
Who won’t ever see it, not if I have a say.
I can’t rest when my mind reels back
From the roller-coaster of writing again
To an unknown soldier person carefully;
It starts like all notes do, with one word
Carefully, meticulously chosen: “Dear.”
Time tends to quicken when you least expect it to,
Like a car rushing on the highway, agile yet interruptive,
When an SUV crosses into your lane and you yell expletives
Harsh words your parents told you never to say,
But that was a long time ago, before you learned how to drive
Amidst the horns and muffled engines you feel strangely
Attracted to this speedy SUV and its uniqueness.
You kick the sedan into ignition and attempt to catch up,
Hoping to match the damn SUV’s path at the speed of light,
And the compact steel of the sedan sheds away gradually
From the trunk, the wind-shield wipers, the glass windows
With the more weight you lay on the gas pedal,
And if the whole sedan deteriorates and collapses
Under the pressure of gravity you’d be blissfully clueless.
In that wonderful moment time is rapidly short, and lags.
You cannot catch the uncatchable when
It’s hurling naturally at light speed and you’re
Struggling to reach 85 on the speedometer.
It’s difficult finding a silvery SUV during rush hour
Especially when it seems everyday is a constant hour of rushing
And traveling in fifty directions for the same silvery SUV
You saw yesterday, the day before, a week ago, last month,
That’s probably cut off many other sedans along its path
As it was passing you by happenstance on its way to work
Or to meet a special someone who never knew you existed.
Three times over I say I’ll sing you a song,
I’ll sing you a great song, you know, a big,
Beautiful fantastical long one
Like when we used to play with the recorders in music class
And the keyboards in the sixth grade
And I would sing, sing, sing along to your tunes and
Love the songs we made,
Love the music we made,
Our duo unstoppable invincible.
I want to sing a new song with you, like in music class,
But this time I want to play the keyboard, the recorder, the flute,
And you can sing, because I don’t think I’ve ever, ever heard
You sing before.
You’ve got a green, violet-blue-red-yellow voice for my emotions,
A voice for every season, holiday, and mood.
Please sing me a song, so
We could be in music class again.
coated sparkling golds and silvers
lathered platinum angels and
anticipated arrival but as it
came I turned
conscious of the world but
focused on a moment that’s fleeting nature
confounded me and I must
oust the memory from my mind
before it consumes me.
trees of ivy
stretching skyward into
where giants roam and
skyscrapers loom cautiously
in wanton sacrilege to the heavens above them.
dreams of snowflakes
soaring like plastic airplanes catching wind and
plummeting to the ground where we lay.
but it feels like summer
and the ivy trees sway also with the wind
that brushes your hair across your face
as you smile and dance with the seas that
shape the world.
I’ll meet you where the sun doesn’t shine,
Where the sky parts for a short moment.
I’ll meet you where the ocean sings melodies,
And the fish dance along to the music.
I’ll meet you where the food is delectable,
But the waitress is ever so rude.
I’ll meet you where the poetry is divine,
And the poets are revered like gods.
I’ll meet you where the seasons never change,
Where we can find harmony and grace.
I’ll meet you where the forests are still green,
And I’ll build us a house among the trees.
I’ll meet you where the lakes are still blue,
Even though the sky is not.
I’ll meet you here, there, and everywhere,
But then we’re stuck with nowhere.