When love comes to visit
she only stays a few days
at a time; her work in the city
is important she says, so
she brings her satchel of books

I wait at the crossroads
where the bus lets her off

Then we go to bed to dream
where she sings and hums
before morning comes

When she gets up
and pulls on her jeans
and goes out on the porch
it's so early you can see the moon
and the sun; I go to work
while she lays around
to read and do what she does

The days go so slow
and when I get home
she's baked some apples
and painted my bedroom blue

The next morning
I take her up the road
to the bus; we say so long

She never talks about her job,
so I leave her  alone.

i'll want you the way
i want coffee:
in the morning,
in the afternoon,
in the night.
all the time.

i am sitting in a taxi cab
reading poetry
and thinking
that there must be some metaphor
hidden here
some deep meaning
something greater than just a woman
reading poetry in a taxi cab
a thought
something like
i am the only one who does this
and that my beauty lives in choosing
poetry to fill my days with
something like
this is what will make someone
fall in love with me
but maybe
maybe the poetry in this moment
maybe the greatest thing in all of this
is that i am a woman
reading poetry in a taxi cab.

And poetry is worthy
Either way you see it,
Its free,
And most wouldnt spare
A penny for these thoughts

When the delights
Became the norm,
And the spring roses
You planted failed because
You bought that stupid bike,
And my personality
Lost its person,
When one more is all we needed
For an empty bottle
To match the drapes of our
Talks,
This place I loved
Became a Hell,
And home is where the
Heart is,
Surely he is a real estate agent.

One of the best things in life
Is hiking up a massive hill
Reaching the top and seeing the light
As water cascades into a pond where birds trill
And you set down your pack to breathe
And wade knee deep in mountain forest air
And then lie back against cool stones in ease
And bend back to let the current rinse your hair