The dishes smash against
The wall
The neighbors peek through
the blinds
to try and witness the
un-normalcy
of
shouting and fighting
in a well-respected
upper-class
community.
Those neighbors are posers though
They fight too
Just silently
And over the span of
a few decades
Either way the cops show up to
better the situation.
Her hands pack her bags
As her eyes unpack their tears
I won't need a grinch this year
I've killed my own Christmas.

I would
never
consider myself
by any means
one fit for
the military
though
now and again
I still may
find myself
taking orders from
Major Depression.

You'll never know
how much it meant
that you pieced my
caterpillar
back together
piece by piece
the time
the f r u s t r a t i o n
You must have put into
each delicate detail
the thin fragments
the spontaneous glue
I never had the words
at such a young age
to express any form of gratitude
or understanding
and I barely do now
I can only say
I will never be more excited
for show-and-tell
for
the
rest
of
my
life.

I stare above
my cold coffee
and warm cereal
at the blank wall in front
of me. I miss you.
Or at least I think I do
I don't know
it's hard to tell these days
I was miserable with you
and without you I'm
bored.
It may take a few more
lonely breakfasts
before I figure
out which one is
worse.

you
dance
like
the
night
and
your
love
is
just
as
bright.

We went to a reading
You sat leaned back
With your arms crossed
sighing at every read line
aren't they just so pathetic
The person reading begins to cry
reading his own words
I press forward
and rest my elbows on my knees
and my chin on my hands
I can still hear you
in my peripheral audition
trashing
nodding
rubbing your eyes
with your thumb and index
with that smile
making a show
of your disappointment
You were once in his shoes
reading your own work
self-conscious and vulnerable
full of doubt
and hate
Then someone called you "good"
then another
and another
and now you're this
The breathing image of what it
means to be a Poet
and aren't you just so **** *poetic

The path was lonely
but
company is not too hard to find these days

Some sweaty rags and a
patched army coat
emerged from a dark
alleyway and
waved me in his direction

he approached me
with his friend
which I couldn't see

but it was dark

so I think
along with some money
I will give him the benefit of the doubt
since it is too typical
to assume that if a homeless man is talking
it is to himself

He began to whisper
and inch towards my face
His breath smelled something
that could only
be described in eulogy
Underneath his tumbleweed beard
were deep ridges
filled with dirt and sweat
and wear

It seems
the Grand Canyon had a son
and disowned him

His advice hit my face
with golden plaque
from the gaps of his teeth
Things will get better soon, my friend
some guffaws and a handshake later
he jumped back off his feet
and into the dark

I continued home
to my own boxed alleyway
thinking it was five minutes
well spent

If I ever went back to that
dark of a street
I will hope that he is gone
to find a brighter one