I remember asking my dad,
“How many stars are in the sky,”
and he said something like,
“Way too many to count.”
But I’ve counted.
And after recounting
                                      and recounting
and scribbling in my notebook
under my fathers flashlight
I can tell you that there is
indeed a number.

And to this day I prefer
reading the stars over anything.
They’re the oldest book ever written.
Space: the oldest canvas to be sewn
and the cosmos the paint of Picasso.
Each spec is its own character
each pair a set of eyes
where I can lose myself in their gaze.
A celestial connect the dots
where I collect the pictures
and pick out my favorite spots.

But when my son
is old enough to ask,
“How many stars are in the sky?”
I’ll just hand him a notebook
and tell him to read what he sees.

I.
Grab my suitcase from the carousel
Lead me through the baggage claim

Take me by the hand
Tell me you would take me anywhere

Hail a taxi and rush
Because he's already got the meter running

We're like Chicago
I love the city but you hate the hustle

II.
Walk the suburbs with me
Hold my hand down the sidewalks

Drive the BMW to brunch
Come back in time to give the cleaning lady a key

Sleep on a field of feathers
And wake up to coffee brewing

We're like Wheaton
I despise the deep pockets but you love the atmosphere

III.
Take the train from city to county roads
Drive and drive until traffic is nonexistent

Show me your favorite spot by the lake
Dare me to jump in when I fear the blue waters

Stay up with me all night
Hold me while sunlight floods your room

We're like your hometown
I'm your family and you're the charisma

IV.
I'll drive north through sleet and snow
And meet my mother for a warm embrace

We'll make the couch our home
Nesting under a blanket and promise

Ice cream in January is nothing out of the ordinary
For you and me

We're like the town I grew up in
You're the summer breeze and I'm the familiarity

V.
Together, we're a city
We're the ups and downs

You're the broken windows and I'm the noise
We're the wineries and over-priced pastries

You're the quiet and I'm the prying relative
But together, we make any city an adventure

Of all the blessings
Showered from above
Can any compare
To a Mother's love?

From your birth
For all of her years
She shares your joy
As well as your tears

No matter what you do
Or even what you say
A Mother's love never lessens
In any way

With a love so gentle
That can also be tough
She guides and corrects
For when times get rough

"I spent the best years
Of my life
In the arms
Of another man's wife"

That is a quote
My Grand-pa once said
As he laid
In a hospital bed

He meant his Mom
And I have to agree
As a Mother's love is the greatest
Outside of God's you'll see

So happy Mother's Day ladies
Thank you for all that you do
You truly are a blessing from God
And we love and appreciate you!

I wanted answers but all you did was kiss me.

I know that doesn't seem complex,
yet when the twin towers were hit the
conspiracies rose as the people fell.

Who was really in charge of all of this?

I believe that question belonged to both my
situation and the nation.

I thought to myself that you'll talk
and tell me about what was going on in
your mind and if you felt the same way.

But that was like hoping for a blind man to explain
the fear in the people's eyes as they
ran away from the city's blocks of smoke.

For a blind man wouldn't comment on what he couldn't see,
just how you couldn't see how much I cared about you
therefore you didn't comment
let alone compliment.

While they searched for bodies,
I searched for body language.

The aftermath of the towers falling resulted
with no air traffic for a week above the U.S.,
people reported that
the skies had never looked so blue.
I was told the same after the word
"us" had fallen.

I wanted answers but all you did was leave me
with conspiracies questioning if this end was planned.

I am deeply sad
because they don't see the stars
of your existence.