Do not hate your age
Or the fine lines that plague
Your face.
They are marks of wisdom,
Worn by years of sun and stress.
You dreamed of the future when
You were younger,
The world you would create.
Now, you fear the future
The final punctuation at the end
Of your story.
Do not fear death
Though it comes more soon each day.
Progress is a thing borne from
The passing of time
And would never have come if
Years had not gone.
When the light leaves your eyes
And the breathe is gone from your chest
Know that Death has not won.
You are written into books of history;
Trails of papers, poems, memoirs and
Memories you leave behind.
And these things will keep you
Forever alive.

The sun is setting like
An ethereal scarlet orb behind
The naked tree, whose light
Shines behind spindly branches  
In rays that I mistook for
God's fingers when I was young,
Before my innocence had wilted like
Those red leaves that litter the ground
This time of year and release
That earthy smell that we mistake for
Autumn but is actually
Decay.

Eight-hundred miles underfoot and
Three-hundred and twenty-one dollars spent
On a Delta flight out of Newark
To spend two nights with a man I met
Once for one night, fifty-six hundred miles
And two continents away
Three months ago,
Returning only with
Two halves of one
Broken heart.

I hear that men are better
At putting bread on the table and
Making dough.
But I always thought women
Belonged in the kitchen,
So when it comes to baking bread
And kneading dough,
I think, as women,
We would know.

Ready your red canvas,
Fasten the straps of your boots
The silver spurs can't weigh
You down more than fear has already.
Remember, you are not alone.

We in the stands are watching
While you dance in circles with the beast
Teasing him with your canvas,
Waving it like an enemy banner before his
Crazed eyes, his pierced nose garnished
By a gold ring, whose furious nostrils spout
Blood in every snarl.

We in the stands,watching
are not here to see a beast subdued by
Calm words or a stroked ear.
We came to see  a man gored,
Pierced through his stomach
Tossed limp against the ground
Blood that feeds the grass and our
Eyes.

But you did not enter into this ring to die.
You came to conquer the beast,
To pounce upon his massive shoulders,
Grasp him by his mighty horns
To ride his bucking back, amidst
The brays and snarls, the jeering crowd
Until your blade has met his neck and
His tongue lolls from his mighty maw,
You came to fight; you came for victory.

We keep an empty chair
Between us so our consciences stay
Clean, but your legs are crossed,
Your shoe points in my direction.
Our feet like to lead us
Where our hearts have already wandered.
I like to think about you
Getting dressed in the morning,
pulling on your shoes.
I wonder if it crossed your mind
That later your shoe and my boot
Would touch under that empty chair.

You can accelerate to
Try to
Compensate but
I saw your brake-lights beam
Red, and I know
Your natural inclination was
To stop
Before guilt brought your
Foot to the pedal.