Tattoo of a tear.
****** in a low Beamer,
cool-kissing his Glock.

He nurses ailments
An aging Lola, keeping
Faith & Family,

Tribe of children &
Too young a Man of the House,
No crying alone.

Best meal is breakfast
He pours milk for their cereal,
Then walks them to school,

Senor Mother Goose,
A daisy chain of ducklings,
Nurses their ailments.

Breathing hard,
we swam in the ocean of one skin
bodies hot,
flushed with sweat,
then you fall  beside me
feigning to be tired.

I close my eyes then
and think about twilight on this beach,
if it will be you or the moon
walking alongside me, there
within the decrepitudes
of a waning one-night
stands your inconsequential
manhood...

As our Friday Late Night breathing
slows to a silence of sad regret,
you get up to towel down, while
I allow your power to dry on me.
Then you came and wiped away our ***,
kissing each spot where you had landed
yet you never consider
my lips...

Let's pretend I can read your mind.

What unkind words would you not say,
whose name would you hide?

What places would you flee, in dismay,
or wish to Caribbean cruise to?

If I could hear your love,
what would it tell me
that I do not already know?
What kind of fantasies would whisper?
Will your fears be softly moaned,
or scream loudly to be let go?

Let's pretend you knew I could
hear deeper all your silences,

how many flatteries, there, would echo
like broken vinyl,
a skipping heartbeat, a flat tire...on the road…

Would you still lie, if you knew- that I knew,
still believe in them?
Still make me believe you good?
(never telling the truth)

Let's say you could
hear my thoughts... my inner worth...

Would you condemn me and herald my secrets?
Command me for your work
make me a lackey
or say I'm crazy
to everybody—a nobody...?

If you could see inside me
or feel my worst hurts,
would you understand \why and how
my heart should burst?

And of course, this is all make believe,
imagination at it's height,
but true life is another sort
of his and her stories….

from our minds' eyes
to witness
to be told:be realized.
And every tale has once come true:
man now
flying, cloning,
in rockets to the moon,

I'm sure my fiction will be
written soon, if not already
In that book...

what kind of mood
"He" must of had when craving
King & Koontz
the idea of me...
(and "god" knows who)
scratching chin
his beard of white
in a bowl of crocodile tears,

playing pretend,
and silent night
with our living years...

On a crowded bus,
Everyone stares at smartphones.
Strangers and their masks.

If war has begun
Dark molasses on white tongues
Deeper lashes of city’s woes
Harsher graphics showing their junk
The weapon is the tongue
Wars have done begun
Because the Word is Love.
Dark molasses sweetened tongues.
Overlords and goats...

Thin and mild mannered
tattoo novice ink
inarticulate
drawings of ***** boy *****
gnarly scabs / a missing tooth
walking dead in flip flops

pain clawing his expression
all loss in its translation and

Need is loud - a vagrant shout
but I have no money to give...

Young man, in his wife beater tank,
smears of dirt
his wastrel work
crawling through the black
though this morning's blinding
sobriety
forces its friendship on you
                 find a way back...

Young man, here's some breakfast
warm and steady
in the war-time melee of your stomach
empty as the shame
that must be lingering
in your pulse,

here's some shoes and water too
keep cool in this hateful heat
keep on toward home
toward mother's arms
if that's all the choice you got

survive or not.

Here's a moment kindly passing
not a dollar or a hit,
I hope you make it to the next one
and maybe another kindness will be won

in the ripples of this pond
where loss is the stone
you are sinking

below the surface deeply hidden
it's only a matter of realizing,
we are born to swim in it
we're made of creation, creating our own

when you resurface air —be strong and kindly
wash away  dark nights lone chiding

Young man, I see this morning, crying
Once awake to tithe the ties of binding
Learning
You/ are the only one you’re fighting

The human pride kind of life and time
We appear to be casualties
Keeping in mind
when we mindlessly gorge on wish
for something equal
gold and fine…
bright faculties love divine
You cool?
I wish
Young man, "god bless" he says
goodbye
there's nothing
worth it more than Lovin’

The searching for meaning
Who are you
to find/
  be found
in someone else’s loving eyes...?

(No one around . Now.)
Shed some light...