We tap-danced in Target
Skipping up and down with
Doublemint and Milky Ways
Twizzlers and the bittersweet chocolate waltzes.

We crouched in the corner
Not to shoplift, just to talk
Exchanging philosophy with paper towels
And lead the paper plates through secrets.

We walked on cracked sidewalks
Chipped with the dubious glances of fate
How many feet have wandered these streets
And how few have really seen?

We sat in the backseat
As the brownish gray fields rushed by
The setting sun stayed suspended in the sky
Burning up the tired atmosphere.

We drank mixed lemonade in chilled, clinking cups
Front porch step afternoons
Frosted glasses drained of sugary pink
Summer expectations.

When I wished innocently in February on
One cold night saturated in body spray
For friendship to be free
I had no idea how lovely life could be.

I will never be
ensconced in
charming lace
valentine
            hearts
candypink encased
You will not see me
withering away
back of hand
          upon brow
in fainting stance
in a flowing silk dress
swinging on a
           perfect bough
For I am a river
wild and true
sometimes quiet
sometimes
roaring and
             soaring in
shimmering hues:
Blues and greens
mixed with shades
           of earth, of fire
bespeaking emotions
in tones of desire
My river can get messy
can flood over too fast
because my heartstrings
                       get pulled
by the strength of
                        the blast
It can bring up
colored stones
in its undertow
fish and otters
spinning
in voodoo
          overflow

As the colors rise up
in this heated coolness,
                          this deluge
the influx overwhelms me
with a power so huge
and then I need
     some metallics,
flecks of silver and gold
to soothe
passion's piquancy
                when it gets
                   particularly bold
                      Specked within rocks
                    to ground me, keep
               my feet on the soil
             prevent my heart
          from slipping
       down into
     a choking,
         hot oil

Bronze minerals reflect
peaks of sadness,
     searing pain
        from rawness of hurt
          with no one to blame
             Yes, it can be a balm
                         and also a burn
to be so linked
by spirit-threads
to another, in emotions
that churn
just on the brink
but never truly there
to experience the
         fullness of rush
ripe culmination
abundant and lush

and that's when the
river turns
into molten
              lava...
and I must dig
deep under
layers of ancient strata
seeking relief
in coolness of earth
as my spirit
             again undergoes
              a kind of rebirth
For when we
grow to love
strange things
happen, indeed
       In the core of
my essence
you are the root
of my
        seed

From nowhere

Like motes in the air

Notes begin to appear

Ethereal to the eye

Soft as the sigh

Of breath upon your face

Gliding over your senses

You feel their touch

Origin unknown.

Whether a force of rage

Or state of grace

For a time

You each occupy the same space.

Words can touch your heart

Or destroy your soul,

Obliterate your being

Or leave you whole,

And though the author

You cannot see

You get to know them intimately.

Though the origin of the author

Is often unknown

When words are shared

Your not alone.

Maura gave me a watch
Many Christmasses ago;
Time and again its hands
Moved me.
It had a crystal face,
Nickel-plated case,
A golden crown,
Calendar window,
And a dial with Arabic numerals.
A ten dollar Timex
That made me feel like a million.
The brothers didn't have a watch,
But I had a second hand
For accurate readings
Of who could **** the longest,
Hold their breath for two minutes,
How long it took for the kettle to boil,
Or a snail to crawl.
Everything could be timed,
And timing, like my watch,
Was everything.
I was the timekeeper,
And took duties seriously.
I wore it on my left arm,
One day the sweep second froze,
The big and little hands stopped.
A spring or something broke;
The date was a constant
Grim reminder.

for years i have lived
within this
bubble
a bubble that i made
to keep me safe
keeps me safe
within
keeps me away
clear
transparent
like elasticated glass
i see the world
from within
and have felt safe
from within
it keeps the world
at arms length
safe and away
keeps me away
within
keeps me safe
but
i can't touch the outside
from within
my fingertips press the clear
press the transparent
press the glass
and it gives
under my touch
as my fingers enter
the world beyond
i have need
i have longing
i want
i want to go
beyond
to feel the outside
to touch
and breathe
and live
beyond
the within
to escape the
bubble
that i had created
so that i was free

She gave me a stone,
And her turkey wish-bone,
She'd been saving.
Then presented a pen
She'd hid in her sock
Under her bed,
In her special box.
These are her gifts;
They're all that she's got.
Gifts from a child,
Giving and smiling.
She's not eccentric,
To her they're aesthetic;
If I'm worthy,
Tomorrow,
There's a blue-ribbon stick.