You're just like
good decaf coffee
because I can
enjoy all of you,
every nuance and
subtlety without
the fear of
getting too wired,
too anxious from
the stimulus.
No, there's
no regret in
enjoying you.

When my dark clouds rise

And dirt clods fly and I try

In sheer panic to replace

Rotten fruit with dull wax fruit

And wilted blossoms with

Plastic flowers and she thinks we

Will be on yet another short-lived

But cold cycle of tightrope and

Eggshell walking . . .

She comes home


With bags filled with

Apples green & red

Peppers yellow & green & red

Grapes green & purple

Plums yellow & purplish-red

Strawberries, peaches, tomatoes

Bananas & Greek salads.

 
This usually inspires me to make

For this setting a centrepiece of a

Vase filled with a variety of fresh

Picked wildflowers which brings

Her more joy than two dozen

Of the overrated overachiever rose.


At times this seems like

One of  few bridges back

To a healthy & colourful world.

Am I winning at this game
Or is life beating me
Sometimes it's hard to tell  
Sometimes it's hard to see

When my chips are down
I try and quickly pick them up
Are you ready for another round
Or have you had enough

Sometimes it's hard to tell
If you're the monkey or the cage
I have yet to figure out
Am I the turkey or the baste

On life's shinny lock
I often fumble with the keys
When you find I'm in mid-sneeze
Would someone please bless me

While enter and exit signs
Loom everwhere I go
Not sure if I should stick around
Or pack my bags and hit the road

Sometimes it's hard to tell
If you're the noose or the rope
I have yet to figure out
Am I the grass or the goat

If ever there was a sliver
Of sun in this shade of doubt
It's that in life it is hard to tell
And even harder to figure out

she sneezesas the breezes
carry the pollen to her nostrils

she  is small
and somewhat frail
but  when she sneezes
she creates more than breezes
she makes a gale

and the noise is like thunder
as her lungs do the rumba
all in order  to expell
the pollen from her being

her eyes cross
and fixate
on an ephemeral state
in order to calibrate
the legnth of the ah
in her ah-choo

sometimes it is
large and elongated
sometimes small delicate statacco
and then again it may be somewhere
in between the two

and after she sneezes and gales
and wheezes...she seems stunned
by the fuss and disharmony
she created by nasal cacophony

and in her daze, the taps
her nose and says quite clearly

good old faithful....
                           .....thar she blows