Glaciers, white and blue,
fill the spaces between me and you.
In a torn, faded photograph,
a happy family displayed
as they joke and laugh.

A mother's smile,
a father's firm grip
on that of his only daughter.
The gentle waves of water
and rocks the shade of emery,
lay the scene for this sweet, fleeting memory.
A brother pulls down ******* his hat,
the wind blowing it flat.

Each face a sweet montage of a life lived,
the wrinkled eyes showing all they've survived.

Father's dead now;
the mother holds her son,
their love an unspoken vow,
the likes of which
is broken now.

In this frozen photo, all of this remains unspoken -
a family of which I now have only this small token.

Our love was slow-roasting.
If we were chicken,
it would have fallen off the bone.

I can see now,
on this night
with it's moon as silky
as freshly laundered sheets,
that all I cared for was small.
And that my thinking them small
made them all the smaller.

There's no one to blame but me.
This, I now can see.

All indecencies, all sins
are forgiven.
Not by I, nor by God,
but by the moon itself.
The moon,
the only true witness
to the crimes of mankind.

The blood spilled,
the lies told,
the affairs had;
the moon saw them all,
yet he shone no less brightly
than before.
He, who knows
my crimes;
he, who tells all time.
He, who judges not.

The man in the moon.

Like a dried out pen,
you lay before me.
    Perhaps you served a purpose once,
    back in the days
    where leaves still blew
    through these Cadillac-filled streets.
Vanished and forgotten,
like a goldfish
in a bowl without food.
      You'll starve eventually
      from the poverty of your mood.
Like a torn photograph,
the image of you is scratched, incomplete,
a deflated soccer ball
lying somewhere in the street.
      
      A dried out pen
        can write no more,
           but it does not negate
             the works it wrote
                      once before.

Baby blue-eyed boy.
His softly curved lips
with the power to wreck ships.
So quick with a smile
that will never reach
those baby blue eyes.

Why so sad,
baby blue-eyed boy?

Can't you see
that those eyes
of yours hold all
the splendor of the sea?
Clams by the ocean side,
the flowing, green-blue hair of mermaids,
and soft, soothing waves.

Why so sad,
baby blue-eyed boy?

Lost sailors at sea,
and lovers
who will never love again.
Capsized dreams,
and stormy nights
with no end in sight.

Baby blue-eyed boy,
you may have
all the beauty of the sea,
but you have all the pain, too.

The stars,
the moon,
the never-ending,
ever-expanding
universe.

Two lovers joined
in ecstasy -
arms wrapped,
legs wrapped,
hearts wrapped.

If one burns up,
the other burns with them.