the same old line jumps off my tongue

hi, how are you
i'm fine, how are you?
i'm well, thank you

this time,
there is a pause

the old man looks at me
his skinned is tanned as a hide
but not as wrinkled as some
you can see through his blue eyes
his spirit lurks close to the surface of his eyes
they seem to contain a whirlwind of white clouds and sky
his gray hair is quite dark and shiny
it lays in columns on his head
combed to perfection

we're both lying the old man says quietly
i look up
surprised that someone would question my honesty
i really am well i tell him how are you lying?
i just got out of chemotherapy
he tells me this matter of factly and i feel slightly awkward as i look up at him from my work
i'm sorry. your hair looks great.
thank you.
your total is 53.54. i hope you have a good day.
thank you. the same to you.
the conversation was over
and i will never see the old man with cancer who came through my check out line ever again

Tiptoeing under and over the darkness
looking for you but there's no one there
my mind is racing through long empty streets
my nose keeps dripping, my heart skips a beat
allergic to feeling but mind doesn't respond
I sneeze them out.
I write them out.
I talk them out.
I *** them out.
Yet they are back again
forcing me into one more long night

I became jealous of my friend;
He hung around the intersections
Just a bit too long.

He used to slump around
In the corners of my eyes
And I didn't notice him when he'd frown--
We didn't notice him--until he hung around
That intersection for longer than we'd care to think.

I became jealous
Because he vanished
Right to that street corner
When he thought
No one would care but the coroner,
Right to the asphalt that received him--
Soft,
As I hoped my own
Last moments
Would be.

When I saw him,
Mama said he was sleeping.
He looked like he was,
But the lights were dim;
His arm cradled his head
The way he used to sleep
On his desk, in class
And for all I knew,
He was.

They said he was driving
Like he was late for something,
Like had he not been driving
Exactly 65.32 miles per hour
He'd have been late,
And it was only afterwards
That he'd figured out that he was
Right on time.

And when he arrived, his car blossomed into
A beautiful metal flower, and when it fully bloomed
He was the fruit
Which fell.
And all I could do was recruit the strength
I'd left at home on accident by the drain
The same one that ****** him into that downward cyclone,
Confused him and made him believe he was alone--
Not to just think or to have a hunch,
But to really believe it
To the point where he needed to expunge
Himself.
No.
No, no, no.
Not like this.

And so, now, I sit at the intersection
Chucking rocks with my weepy hand
At my grayish concrete reflection
Trying to see if he'll come around again.
I'm still
And still kind of mad within
Because life's not fair,
I'm jealous because he found the answer
And left us all to figure it out
On shards of glass
Pieces of metal
and intersections,
Which too long
He hung about.

This is my way,
just stay away.

No one can stop me
This is my dream
This is my everything
Every breath,
Every tears,
Every sweat,
Every blood,
           I would give it all.

This is my way,
get out of my way,
just stay away.

God made the perfect creation when he made women
So elegant, charming with their smiles
With the compassion and the ability to love
Even when they frown.
Adam and Eve, two seeds birthed by the hands of God
That started this all, Eve bared the forbidden bear fruit in which she knew
Was wrong, she asked Adam to take part, because she didn’t want to be alone.
Two people made to be together till death do they part
This, is the art… of a woman

When men are alone all we think about is women, why is that?
For a fact, we need and want the subjective progression, in which
Our fathers grew to love.
Why is it that men and women wear cologne and perfume?
We all hope to mate, to find somebody to fill that empty space
In our hearts.
God gave us humans the curse and blessing to love,
Someone other than ourselves

Why is it that women wear tight and fitting clothes?
To show off what Mother Nature blessed her, which is her curves.
She knows that you’re looking and wishing you could have her, but you can’t.
It’s just a tease in order to see if you talk and respect her for lady that she is.
Women are smarter than you think; they make us believe that everything is okay.
They’re strong, goal driven, and sometimes confusing at the most
Some have gorgeous eyes, some have tempting thighs, but we must not lose sight
Of whom they are
Were your protector, you’re our provider to bare a son or a daughter.

You deserve the utmost respect and love, to be treated like queens like you should.
Miss Cleopatra, rubies, diamonds, and gold
Those secrets you have in which were never told.
Behold the art, the astonishing gift God gave us to take care of.
The art, of women something so precious and so gentle.
Made for us men to think and use our mental, fabric of our minds
To straighten up our spines, to be kind and non-judgmental

In order for us to make this work, we must have faith in each other
To believe, and achieve the art of trust.
No luck, no spell, love... the emotion, the gift, so spiritual so bliss
We all want this; this is the art of a woman.

Echoing voice of the moonlit night
Foresee but unarmored from past,
Fragmented heart of broken lights;
Unraveling miseries already did last.

Drowned by tears of years were lost
From crawling those diverging roads,
Victim of dying embers found his cost;
Resemblance of faith is in the woods.

But God above guided his way home
And dry every little river in his mind,
Mournful shadows are still unknown;
Embers of souls are always in divine.

I remember the morning Tuesday was invented—
how gleeful we sang across the streets—
forgetting that the day after tomorrow would be Thor’s day
and that one we didn’t own, too.

I remember the bathroom stalls, the sins of Leviticus
we survived
comforting our confusion with the indulgence that God too
love man, kind.

Let the purgatory full of half good men sing about their sins
with pride and laugh at the moons and stars for being without limbs
and tongues to protest their innocence and Idontgiveadamnisms;

For I remember being fed the tenets of heterosexual history in elementary school
yet wondering why queer gods are the ones named after the planets.