With special thanks to George Ella Lyon*

I am from crumbling brick
(red, dusty, smelling of musk).
I am from aluminum siding
and triple-deckers,
tall, strong, unmovable.

Hailing from the city on about seventy hills.
From Grandfathers and photo albums,
cigar ash salad and pinecone wars.
From "use your imagination" and "go play in the street".

I am from a whirlwind of faith,
belief from non-believers.

From schoolyards, playgrounds, and crawlspaces
come these faces, and these memories
are worth more to me, than anything.

Come with me and sit upon our couch of stone.
Watch the sun set with me again, in the chasm.
We'll scale the crags scattered before us,
surrounded by the trees in our special place.

We can play in the dark, exploring,
this night, our personal playground.
We can spark a jay and laugh a bit,
it's been much too long my friend.

There's much to share about recent affairs,
so lets wander the woods and chat, to catch
up on it all. We can travel farther, you know
the place. We'll sit in our lifeguard chair and watch waves.

You bring the food, PB and J, as usual. I'll bring
the tunes, we can sing along to pop songs all night,
I won't tell. I've got a tank full of gas so we can drive
all night, it will be like the old days. When everything was simple.

for my friend with autoimmune disease*

Finally you are healthy,
for the time being. Won't you
pick up your guitar again
and play me a song. Sing
the world a lullaby.

So full of optimism, you,
make me believe, that you,
can conquer anything.
Except, relapse comes
and I'm crying. This world
can not afford to lose you.

This time turns out okay.
But I live in fear,
of unpredictable relapse.
While you, take advantage
of the health temporarily
granted to you. Each moment,
you deserve every moment.

You are unappreciative,
and the moon is sick of shining
for you. The stars are crying,
now. See what you've done?

Found, one bookbag filled with broken hearts,
additionals may have been added.
If you happen to be searching for these items
than I am sorry, a broken heart is nothing
to long for. The bag is fitting, no matter
what I do this is all I ever seem to end up
with, a bunch of broken hearts.

Lost, one remarkable love
I think it just walked off one day,
haven't seen it since. Its sudden
absence from my life has aided me
in filling my bookbag.

Any information on this missing item
will be greatly rewarded, with as many
hearts as you can fit inside your bookbag.
They may not be in the best of shape, but
they are yours for the taking. All I ask
is that you allow me to search through them
for the fragments on my own heart, I think
I can piece it back together, and that you
bring your own bookbag. I've grown fond
of this one, the zipper, is fantastic.

Head between your knees, put
your head between your knees.
Get under your desks and grab
your helmets. Fasten your safety
belts, and don't try to get up
until all of the warning lights
Stop flashing.

I'm a nuclear reactor with a thermal
detonator and you've brought me to
boiling, it's time for the fallout. Run
for cover, sprint to your shelters,
it's of no use. I will leave this land
barren, leave you for dead.

I will stand before you and ****
upon the grave sites of your
ancestors. There is nothing you
can do to stop me now. My blast
radius is growing exponentially
with each passing moment.

There are people fleeing in every
direction. They beg me to stop,
they pray for salvation, mercy,
they pray to a God who is no
longer listening. They have brought
this, upon themselves, today,
is judgement day, and I, am the beast.

I can feel your lifeblood pulsing beneath
my teeth. Beg me not to end your life.

I don't understand you, boy,
with your billy goat beard and
fishing pole. Munching on that raw ear
of corn, as if proud of that haul
of laundry, you just reeled in
at your feet. The trench coat you are
buttoning is making everyone nervous,
but I am more curious. How did you
find yourself in this city? On this
train? And how can you look, so
confident, when you are so, out
of place? I envy you, boy.