Sooner or later it was bound to happen.
I fell for you,
                     Again.
In a way I’m quite tired of this dance,
                Waltzing around,
         Spinning,             dipping,
   A two step.                     a  salsa.
         Rhythmic              sadness-
                   Tiptoeing love.
In a way I wish this love had never happened,
I know the impossibility for what I hope for.
Yet everyday I just wait for another song
In our ballroom of text messages and google docs,
The band plays a taunting song-
In the key of heartbreak,
And timed out to the tempo of our thoughts.
Even within our gala the other dancers snicker,
For I have no partner,
And your love is dancing with another.

he opened another beer
and sat on
the couch
but turned off the TV

He watched the kid

The kid was on his knees
before the coffee table
busy with
an orange pencil and a
piece of paper

Tongue poked
to one side and held
firmly between
the lips,
he was writing letters to
the pet dog
he’ll never see
again

And he did that
all day long

Dad sipped at his beer. The
years of action
were far beyond him now
but by all the gods
he swore
tonight will be the
night
he sneaks into his ex-wife’s
home and kidnaps
the dog

He even rented
a van
for it

welcome to suburbia
where numb is the new norm
stay awhile and realize
it's the quiet and never the storm
oh i'm not complaining
i'm just stuck here waiting . . .

my grandfather didn't speak much
he barely asked any questions
besides a quiet "how are you?"
he sat in his chair with his newspaper
a grimacing statue
the center of orbit in the house

my grandfather gave me icecream
without me asking
a clinking bowl with sweet vanilla
would appear next to me
and no words would be spoken

my father gives me icecream
without me asking
a clinking bowl before he fades back into the shadows
and i think i'm starting to understand
how we learn to love

i hope i will do more
than give someone a bowl of icecream

i smoke
                and i drink

'*** i thought it would help me not to think . . .

but here i am
                         after several shots

thinking all my anxious thoughts.

Draw a stick figure
future - diminished
and virus ransomed.

Paint the landscape
with the sweltering glare
of global warming.

Come share this
with me - let kisses heal and
soft whispers inflame.

Some locks need two keys
to open; some heavens can
be reached by mortals.

A poem a day,
Keeps depressing thoughts away-
…
Too optimistic.