Your family home
has been sold
to the cultured,
the old vultures
feeding on the garden
thick with rabbits
and your father's dead
daughters, you sleep
in a pickup, tired
of work near the water,
fond of the instant,
you travel through
the country you know,
farm long forgotten,
the word free written
in red ******* your arm.

.

Watching her board bathed in fog at the station
Spectacles slide down the bridge of his nose
Usually a blur, not in this situation
Smudges can’t hide every beauty she shows

Lugging a satchel in high heels and cotton
In her left hand rests a statue that grins
Such an odd sight, this her concrete companion
Never you mind as the journey begins

Timidly calling the glass doors to open
Counting his change spread of nickels and dimes
Gasping for breath on a curb painted yellow
Escaping the past, oh those horrible times

Filled every row, ‘cept a seat near the driver
All eyes affixed as the vinyl bench sighs
Kicking her shoes to abbreviate blisters
Freedom is felt in the footwear goodbyes

Nervous he waves from the corner still pacing
Climbing the steps of a Westminster bus
Pulled at his limbs by another intrusion
Faking his mood so she thinks there’s a fuss

Taking a seat between cement and flannel
Rolling his eyes that he don’t mean at all
Watching her lips as she inhales discretely
Feeling his library heart start to fall

She tugs his ear with her thin ringless fingers
Whispers a secret he hopes comes to share
Hides from the window, the vehicle moving
Nary a glance towards the morning sun’s glare

She holds her gnome like her life is depending
When all she needs fills the seat right next door
Porcelain dust on her clothes has her sneezing
Handkerchief offered he nicked at the store

Such is the dream of a bookworm delivered
Finding the chapter he’d thought long ago
Angels and demons and pretzel tan loafers
Potholes and clues juggled way down below

What is this trail winding out to the country
She gives a smile so much more than the fare
Holding on tight to a vested creation
Seeking adventure of those debonair

Here now we find such an unlikely duo
Still in their eyes shines reflections of grace
She has her man and her plan contemplated
He has his heart in the very same place
  
Exhaust fumes emit in a paisley frost pattern
Corduroy sidewalks bid all a farewell
Searching for love is the now destination
What will they find, only time it will tell

And as a western of popcorn persuasion
Into the sunset, they fade in the glow
What once was billed as a short presentation
Nowhere on this page will “The End” now show

"You touched my fingertips.
I felt it. My heart skipped a beat.
Taking hold of my hand. It stopped.
The high school child in me embraced
the playtime once again.
Sitting on a park bench thinking of our bleachers
at the Friday night football games.
Now we cheer for the pigeons as they fight
for the bread crumbs.
It's all so beautiful, only different times.
We are here still together, that's all that really
matters.
Beautiful to reminisce, grateful that
we can.
To kiss each others lips, and start our hearts
pumping once again."

Quiet echoes bring the night of cricket song and firefly
as masks of clouded abstract shades intercept
Foaming colors take the eye to moments of shadowed dreams,
crimson plumes beneath a starlit canopy
Footing soft on dry grass down paths not yet worn,
wandering along fence line silhouettes

A golden sphere, above mature pecan trees appears as curtains lift
igniting the northern sky in beaconed majesty
Slowly puzzle pieced mist clears and bursts of color,
rainbows of dark bands announce the arrival
as this evening’s lunar show begins amidst
heavy sighs and mesmerized smiles

Soft in splendor, basking in myth,
the full moon, distant yet touching the soul
This night is shared, beyond horizon’s glare
and focused thoughts of two places, two hearts, one sky
Whispers follow beams of ancient descent, silently finding her,
hoping she will sense and know…that it is this moon that is ours

.

My label was showing,
flipping out from behind the collar
of my non-U.S.A. made shirt
Sri Lanka I think,
but I can’t see the back of my neck from here

Perhaps that is why they stare or
maybe it is why they don’t?
Well, that's okay, I’m new here,
first time on this floor
(I pushed the wrong elevator button)

Fancy suits and low cut gowns,
hors d'oeuvres, champagne, noses held high,
some are long ones to look down or up at
“Bat in the cave! Oh, did I say that out loud?
Sorry lady, no I wouldn’t like any avocado"

Whispers, murmurs or just low talking,
there must be a hundred of them
I thread myself through the crowd
making my way to the podium where I speak,
“Hello I am a poet and I’d like to read you something”

A strong gust of wind races against my face,
not air from any open window,
but the breeze created by their mass exodus
as they head for the outdoor terrace
for a smoke or to spit on those below them

Then I saw her, standing in the middle of the room
all alone, staring up at me
Deep brown eyes, dark glistening hair
and a smile that out-beamed the overhead recessed light
“I’d like to hear your poem,” she said in a euphoric voice

I gazed upon her mesmerized, feeling my throat tighten,
sweat appeared on my forehead as I lifted
a slip of paper from my back pocket
I looked it over and looked over at her…again
Then, taking a deep breath muttered,

“I must apologize, for it has become obvious to me
there is no more beautiful poem than the one
standing before me at this very time
To read these words which I have penned
would only pale to this I find”

“Thank you, that is very sweet of you,
would you like to go for a walk in the park?
I’d much rather be outside than inside
and maybe you can read me some
of your wonderful poetry there?”

“I’d love to, but what about them?”
I asked motioning toward the crowd on the terrace
She picked up the tray of sliced avocado, some champagne
and slipped them out the door, then giggled,
“Those insiders will be just fine outside for a while”

As we headed down on the elevator
she leaned up and kissed me
and it was at that very moment, as my heart
was nearly beating out on my chest I knew,
(I had pushed the correct elevator button)

I sit and listen to the crickets melancholy tune
I watch the moon start to bloom
The stars pirouette across the sky
Soon the frogs are croaking in relpy
Fireflies light up the night
Flickering their golden light

A single wolf starts to howl
As if to ask the age old question how
I ended up so lonely
And where's my one and only

My dog is sitting at me feet
She looks up at me as if to say, nothing here is off beat
In the cool of the evening
the honeysuckle is smelling much sweeter
Than in the day under the sun's heater

The moths flutter around on silent wings
My heart is so light it just sings
I just sit here for hours dreaming
Under the moon that now is just beaming

My dog gets up and moves to the door
I look at my watch it's way past four
She's ready for the foot of my comfy bed
So I oblige, and make my way inside,and lay down my weary head