The moon is full
but your lips
were much fuller

as your reflection
rippled
in the amber

it's half past midnight
and all I can do
is stare at an empty glass

and ask
what the hell was  I
thinking

poem
lyrics
or just a screed

we rant
we rave
we rage against the machine

dandelions
daffodils
pear blossoms

and they say
to get gray
you must facilitate

the mostly holy
union
of bull and cow

Raindrops
some skinny
others

chubby

spiraling down the glass
in rivulets
with an occasional gust

of wind

that will
sometimes blow them
sideways

I would say lots of wind
but if I'm being honest
it's just

occasional

and you know
what they say
not about wind

but of country songs
about how every one of them
is about your life

at any given time

I didn't believe it then
but  now I can say this
with extreme clarity

Father
I know this
to be true

The air brakes
and rumble of a bus

pulling out
of town

and the buzzing
fly

of what would've been
if we had just stayed put

and is there progress
or  forward motion

when
there's lament

Yellow green and blue
made by metal shavings

flower and bloom
in the pyre

as sparks rise
dancing

and whirling
in the dark

and melted chocolate
marshmallows

sandwiched between
graham crackers

for smores
are something sweet

to go with the pieces
and shards

of memories
from oh so long ago

there was a tear
forming in the corner
of your eye

and I knew
I had to say something
because it was the only thing
that could save us

and then there were
those windmills
refrigerator white
and otherworldly

scattered

on what was supposed
to be our Illano Esctado
or as they say
staked plain

those **** windmills
I swear they'll be
the death of you
and me

but what you really
don't comprehend

was that you left
when we were on the mend

yes the wine is cheap
but apparently though

our love
was much cheaper than that