We are strangers, yet you are mine
As I am yours, in memory of mind,
And as we converse your eyes are full
Of an image of me once beautiful.
In due time your reflections will cease
To stray to images and memories of me,
Yet I am yours in a way undefined -
Only in the way a cloud floats in the sky
And a footprint breaks ground on the beach’s shore:
In the way we interact and disappear once more.
I am yours in the way a wick is lit
And extinguished in a breath between cautious lips
And in the way the sun now shines on me
As I mar this parchment with longings and dreams.
My hands will crease and cramp with age
And my eyes will dull as youth slowly fades
And becomes replaced by experience’s hand
As it guides and shapes all thoughts, dreams, and plans.
Yet in your eyes, deep in subconscious mind,
You see me as I was, once upon a forgotten time;
And so we all exist, youth immortal
Forever confused and childishly hopeful.
We are to each other as the wind is to seed,
Scattering new ideas and hope among the weeds.
And so you are mine as I am yours
As we casually converse as strangers.

Like the glow on an angel’s wing,
Like the inscription within a ring,
You dulled with every use.
And as I pretend to feel,
Nothing anymore is real,
Without you.

Like the ink from a broken pen,
Like a monster from the fens,
You bled through me.
Creating something as intricately divine-
A system, a feeling, a solid line;
You held all meaning.

And yet I regret something I should have tried,
I failed to tell you so many times.
You never heard me.

Like a drum without its cover,
Like a shelter, like a lover,
You let me down.
Like an ocean without its waves,
Like the sun without warm rays,
Impossibly, up is down.

A martyr, a mercenary, a simple sailor,
I’m as bland as food with no flavor,
Without you.
A day, a season, a force of reason,
Nothing I try or deny makes me free this
Feeling. That I’m without you.

And nothing is the same.

I want to dive headfirst into the ocean
Without fear.
I want to climb the tallest mountain and shout my name
In God’s ear.
Secretly, I want to play the sweetest melody,
Play it from my heart.
I want to run the world’s longest marathon
With a running head start.
I want to love someone so deeply,
The ocean depths feel shallow.
And maybe sing on a crowded sidewalk,
With the weight of the world below.
I want to release all these doubts and fears,
I’ve held tenaciously in my mind.
I want to hold them in my trembling hands,
Then throw them over the state line.
And then, when I’m free and light,
I’ll light a match with my courage to strike,
I’ll set fire to every self-doubt and tear,
Light them up in the sky with all my fears.
And then I’ll play the sweetest tune,
I’ll dive in the ocean and love just as soon,
I’ll laugh until my face turns blue,
Laugh, love, and live, too.
But until then, I’ll play it safe,
Save my activities for commonplace,
Because as long as I fear, there will be no song,
No life, no love, no marathon.

I asked the mule just yesterday
Whether he ever envies the bay
Who burrows her soft, brown nose in the oats
Laid out for her pleasure, to brighten her coat.

The mule responded, with just a hint of chagrin,
“I know nothing of the world or the way I should live;
There are others who tell me this for my own good, thus:
My life is blissfully simple, yet lush—

“Lush,” he continued, while he swatted the flies
Gathered round his muddy coat and panicked eyes,
“Lush is my life that they make so secure:
By bringing me down, they make me demure.

“And,” he concluded, with a wheezing sigh,
“It’s for my own good that I’m covered with flies,
And for the good of the people that the bay gets the oats,
While I struggle and toil catching flies with my coat.”

I meant to ask the mule again
On the issue of his grievous chagrin,
But a crowd led the keening bay out of her stall,
And the world stopped to answer her demanding call.

I’m one giant glacier, inside and out,
And try as you might to toss me about,
One thing above all remains thus far true:
One wrong move and I’ll split your ship in two.
Try as they might to push, pull, or prune me,
A glacier is always stubborn and unmoving;
And don’t forget frigid, with a heart of ice—
Else, how can you explain my lack of a love life?
Oh, it’s really quite simple, my prickly friends,
So gather round closely, I won’t say it again;
Because of such curiosity, please suffice it to say:
Fish, princes, and heroes are too—
How shall I say it?—
Lame.

Fish are exquisite to mix with dishes and stews,
But too ***** and slimy to warm a bed or set the mood;
And princes are, at best, entirely in their heads,
Too fat and pompous to keep your mind properly fed.
And heroes?  HA!  What’s a hero anymore?
A man who stoops to open your door?
“Why thank you, dear sir, your deed is too sweet!
Please relax here, while you rest your weary feet.”
And then what does he do?  He flips on the TV!
And ****! The hero’s on permanent leave!

Romeo, Romeo!  As you leave, please close the door,
And stop climbing my lattice, lest you’ll stop by the store
First thing in the morning, to fix that deep crack
Like the ones in the books people apparently lack.

(I’d like to know, sir, whose idea it was
To think a tragedy such as that could ever symbolize true love.)

If there’s fish in the sea, I have no care—
I suppose there’s a reason they swim way down there;
And a reason why princes live in the clouds
Where not even sense can knock them down.
‘Tis also a reason ducks quack and cows moo
And not the reverse:  that’s what they’re meant to do.
And maybe a reason why this glacier won’t dance
To any stringed harps, or even look askance
At the ships weighed down by anchors and chains
While I float freely down Unlover’s Lane.

(Mark my words; I’ll be eating them soon,
When at last my anchor sinks slowly down too.)