I sit on rocks pondering
Life's
Big Questions

What is it that makes
A
Person a person?

And why did that
*****
Have to leave me?

I skip a stone across the water
And
Watch the ripples meet

If I had known
Then
What I know blah blah blah

If I could only see
You
For who you really are

And if I could only
Die
Without complaining about it

The Cow showed up late
for his shift at the office.
They slaughtered his ***

I did not send you
a card, but perhaps i'll write
something on Facebook

We all left the Diner
waiting to talk
about how no one was talking
and how special you were
for being the only one to notice
and to find it funny
and to call it awkward
and to forget about the night
no one will remember
and you were a part of

I heard poet's have to
be the world's observers
So here I am
Trying to be a good poet
Observing things.

I walk

Through the park
Picturing the poetry
of my surroundings

The day is whatever
Flowers, Bees, Wheelbarrows
Sure, that's all fine
I will leave it for others
to express with their words

I keep walking

I see a man
mowing the grass
Humbly dressed in an
Orange vest
wiping off his life dreams
with the sleeves of his shirt
Grass sticks to his forehead

I keep walking

An older man
but not old
sits alone at a park bench
His face is buried
into the infinite
comforting darkness
of his hands
Tears break free from the cracks

I keep walking

I see a woman
She is not with me
She is happy

I keep walking

I see a kid
playing baseball
He looks sharply at his parents
every second
Dad is on his cell phone
Mom sleeps on her lit cigarette in the minivan
At least they showed up

I keep walking

Down by the lake
I see my reflection
I see myself
Aged
Scared
Alone
A good poet observes things

The reflection is in my bathroom mirror
There was no park
I didn't actually observe these things
I lay flat on my back
My skin sweats against the tile
I grasp the empty
Orange bottle
close to my chest
I try to observe more things
before it's too late
So I can be a good poet
So I can be remembered

I observe the flickering lightbulb that
I should have changed
I observe the towels that
she hated
and don't match the shower curtain
I observe my cold sweat
mixing with the warmth of my tears
A good poet observes things
The light bulb burns out