I think it’s hard for me to stay open
because I’ve been securely bound together
by a thick bind of resistant glue
I snap shut because I’m not used to
displaying all my content for eyes to peruse
I’m written on pages to send your soul on a walk
through caverns with deep trenches of fear
I want to be known through the words I select,
the ones I need you to hear
Read a little deeper, give me your attention
follow the sequential bouncing ball
I’ll whisper through these dry pages
what I feel before I ruin us—ruin me
from not professing to you at all.

I would've given birth
To you,
Endured whatever
Mothers do.
Instead, I did
What Dads do.

I rocked you
Til my future shook;
Watched you til
I couldn't look.
As you changed,
I changed too,
To do the things
That Dads do.

You were bathed,
Dressed and fed;
I loved you so much
I was saved.

If there's credit,
Well, I get it,
For teaching you to read.
I took the blame
When you got bored
With school's ABC's.

I followed you
In all your roles,
Your teams,
Your solos,
Your trips,
Your shows.
First to clap,
Last to sit;
I taped it all,
From start -
To finish.

I taught you
How to tie a lace,
Ride a bike,
Golf and skate.
When time arrived
For you to drive,
You learned
On standard,
Never stranded,
You came home alive.

Your highs
I took in stride,
By example taught
Humility's pride.
Your lows,
I couldn't internalize,
I dropped my guard
With my eyes.

When Dad's do well
It's a double edge,
The future wedge.
The world
Revealed
Desired you too.
I don't dismiss
What mothers do,
But when Dads do well,
Both lose you.

My son runs, wrapping arms around
my nebulous waist.

"l love you, Mom!"  He squeezes tighter,
as if letting go would be his black hole.

"I love you, too, " I squeeze back, absent mindedly.  (Where is the cream? I need coffee.)

"I love you more!" he breathes, without pause.
He gazes into my eyes,
searching my planets.

"Oh no, that can't be true," I retort.
I forget the coffee, his eyes are starlight.

"I love you to infinity!" he exclaims,
staring harder.

He wants to sail the Milky Way with me.

"Me too," I reply, and remember oxygen tanks.

I'm speaking in light years, and I hope the sound waves will catch up to him.

His face cracks into a million years of forever, before he lets go,
dancing across the universe of our livingroom,
his solar system intact.

At least for now.

My heart aches from your words
Don’t make assumptions of me
when you don’t know who I am,
only what I reflect of you
We’re moving too fast
Emotionally I’m unstable
Mentally unable to understand
why I feel such grief at the
idea of happiness within
my reach? Because on the
other side there is terror
of unknown waters, and I
will definitely sink instead
of swim because my legs are
tired of kicking back the demons
of uncertainty; drowning in
my own ocean of sobs,
all because I’m sensitive to
the pain of others, and I want
to hurt none or leave anyone
to ache as I do; so I hoard all
of me and what I give to you—
serenity dissolving to apologies
when I owe nobody but me.

The banana is an inside joke
from God
It is His calling card
And you can call home
if you would hold it to your ear
and speak directly to Him
Just kidding
Bananas are for the belly

He would have used perforated edges
but naysayers would be in an uproar
"How could your God think us so stupid!"
For they always imagine
that God reflects their own stupidity
And the atheist too
would have a fit
and a slew
of jokes about how the real evidence of God
has banana split

But just like little children know
mother puts the best food in the lunchbox
Humble believers can tell you
good loving means good grubbing
on the inside of the banana peel
And that's real

It’s 6:24 on a Thursday morn,
and I can hear the city workmen
carting off the broken pieces
of our throw-away lives,
the stained and ***** secrets
we thought we got rid of so easily
by simply tossing them into those bins
thoughtfully provided for the purpose
But we never think about where it all ends,
our broken pieces and soiled yesterdays,
piled together in a field somewhere,
waiting patiently to become the soil
that nourishes our tomorrow

I’ve had my poise dipped by another wick
and your flicking gaze singes my threading
and I burn slow, spiral hazing up your nostrils
to your system of compounds dictating your
responses and I wait in trepidation for the short
spark in your eyes to fizzle before it strikes me
as an attempt to reignite a dull fuse that’s been
watered down by the waves of passionate chemical
reactions spontaneously combusting for reasons
different from you or I and cannot explain nor deny
the fact my wick for you won’t light