So you'd like to date my daughter,
This I can tell,
So line up behind the others,
And I'll see if you suit her well,

Now come here boy,
Just one to one,
Man to man,
It's okay, I may look stern, But I love to have fun,

So, son, what do you like,
Oh come on, you know what I mean,
What's your favorite curve on a woman's body?
Like *******, legs, thighs, ****, and do you like em thick or like em lean?

Oh ******* you say?
I see... I see...
Get out of my sight!
If you still want her, you will have to **** me!

Ah, you look like a nice chap,
what's your pleasure?
What's your favorite curve on a woman's body?
On which does her beauty measure?

Oh you like her rear?
Oh, well I do hope you like my daughter's,
For that's all you'll see as she walks away with me from you,
Sickening, disgusting, these gentlemen, not gentle but marauders,

Oh so it's legs?
Don't leave now and I'll break yours,
Oh so it's thighs?
Get out of my way! I'll find one who'll make her heart soar!

Last but not least...
Will I find no peace...?
So young man, I will ask you the same,
What of a woman has your testosterone release?

Well good sir,
Your daughter's attractive,
I cannot put this in ample words,
But it is not of that that she has my heart held captive,

I've heard you've asked of her body,
And my sir, if I may have the nerve,
For it is her smile, it is any woman's best curve,

Treat her well son.

I didn't want to wake
up this morning

(people who like the winter
most of all enjoy making their
own warmth)

be my summertime?

I didn’t believe such a thing could be pure, because the word is so cluttered in itself
Happiness is a cluttered word

It’s cluttered with misconceptions of its meaning: the distortion in between the perfectly round consonants and vowels
You wouldn’t think there’d be much room for a world of misconstrued and sometimes subdued views in the tiny space between the plump “a” and the content “p”

But in the miles of space between the embrace of the letters are worlds of difference
People that think happiness is money, the green scene, living large, party barge credit card charge

Or the people that think happiness is ***, a good blow, heavy petting, get a zoo, pet all the animals you want.

We dig ourselves into a hole where we can’t control this self-filling bowl of “happiness”
For me, happiness is driving in my car at sixty miles an hour while listening to a sweetly soothing Melody Gardot
She sings of blue birds that heard the words of the people below, as I feel the blue birds tell me that it’s okay. I will be okay.

Somehow I soak the sun, though it’s winter and the sun is hiding deep in the soil under the snow that continues to blow even though we’re in Dallas, Texas.
That’s ironic.

Hurriedly--
everyone on the streets
rush indoors.
Road signs rattle,
loose leaves on trees rustle--
some blow away...
     the sky
     darkens
    and stops...

Cars rush home,
dogs start whimpering,
the air is thick.
    the sky
   darkens
  and stops...

Here I am,
a barefoot stroll
on the warm sidewalk--
my hair twisting and tangled in the breeze
my whole body charging electrically
as the wind walks beside me.

I can't wait 'till I get to the park
near my apartment,
to feel the wet rain-riddled grass
beneath my feet,
tickling
healing...
feeling like myself again.