She told my legs to take a bound across
the tennis courts. I thought, No problem mom,
and off I went to show them how it’s done.
First right then left but – ****! A shooting pain
in my left ankle. ****! I thought, not now
not here. Another injury this year.
Before it was my knees, and now the day
before a meet my ankle decides to
give out on me. Ma’ Musbach said
to not worry, but knowing me – I did.
The meet, it came and they were all at ease.
While I warmed up the pressure showed but I
needed to push myself so I did not
back down. This challenge with my body scared
the living hell out of me but I’ve done
it all before. They called my name. The air
was still. Breathe; one and two and three – I land.
Applause. I breathe in deep, astounded by
my luck. I had performed and not just that,
but well! My leg was fine, there was no pain
found anywhere throughout my ankle. And
I was for sure not going to let go
of that ‘First Place’ I had dreamed of for so long.

flying into Chi-town
Altoids of various sizes
litter the scenery.
An artfully constructed
playset thrown off
by the skilled placement
of refreshing breath mints.
Maybe they’re off brand,
or perhaps ecstasy,
though I don’t see any
smiley faces or hearts.

I like to look for high school
tracks as we descend.
Forget the football fields,
they’re far less interesting.
Mostly black, though
sometimes gravel, dirt
or red and even
purple once,
though not in Chi-town.
The homestretch extending beyond
each curve;
no hurdles in sight
much less a sand pit.

A mile inland
there is some sort of water.
The body scattered
and split like some
kind of man-made accident.
shallow sand banks
invisible from the ground look
like dead whales.
floating (submersed) there
like lifeless, sandy corpses.
Maybe it’s because of my “Free *****” spree,
but I see whales.

I’ve never been to Chicago,
only in and out of the airport
and catching glimpses of what I
can see through the windows
of Midway.
My good friend has flown with
me once, but we parted at the
big city.
Have you ever wondered why
cities are built like mountains?
the tallest buildings in the
center with everything
else leading up to it?
Kinda like that Verizon commercial
with the magnet and lead…
Maybe I’ll Google it
to find an answer.

There’s a private airport a
little closer.
(Too good for Southwest to land
there). Private jets and runways
too classy to have a White
Castle across the expressway
from it.
They have cornfields.

Even closer now.
The houses larger with matching
sheds and identical roves.
Almost all have pools, makes
sense for a windy city like
Chi-town.
Some are covered and
nasty for the impending
winter. Playsets and driveways,
minimal trees.
I wonder if the children
ever get scared when
the shadow of a 700 series
darkens their windows and slides.
If they look up and feel warmth
in their Children’s Place pants,
throwing their ice cream to the
wind and catapulting into
the comfort of their father’s
arms and then
write about it 13 years
later after they get off that plane.

“Thank you for flying with us
today, please come back and
see us soon.”

A desperate cry for profit

What is love?
Murasaki would say it was an obligation,
a sort of duty
where the rules
say to bury one’s emotions
and succumb to the overpowering ***.

Mian Mian embraces the sexuality
of her culture. Arguing that love
is the force behind drugs and emotion.
It is not the government’s obligation
to dictate the author’s form of rules
on writing a novel that serves its own duty.

How does Black Jade feel about her duty?
Despite her lover’s sexuality
and his matriarch’s ruling
of marrying well even if he does love
her, the family cares more of their obligation
then of their prized sons emotions.

Coco lived by her emotions.
The sickness of Tian not her duty
as it would have been in the old days. Lui’s obligation
to turn in Shiba overruled by rough ***
and her quest for painful love
in a time that disregards all form of rule.

Peony was one who broke the rules
but was rewarded for it. Unless it’s Peony #2 because her emotions
got the best of her when she fell in love
at the wrong time. It was not her duty
to see the play nor feel anything ******
in the Three Wives Commentary; this, her obligation.

Was it Abe Sada’s obligation
to castrate her lover and make her own rules?
Madame Mao too knew all about ***
and succumbed to her emotions
when her duty
was no longer to love.

From emotional red chambers with rules
on obligatory ***, the cycle of East Asian
love patterns has yet to fulfill its duty.

A grain of sand.
a lifeless, heartless
insignificant grain of sand.
undisturbed for so many years.
Complacent in its spot
with the others.
A few friends for company,
even a lover for those cold nights.
One day
the ground starts trembling,
monstrous roars of beasts
pierce all complacency.
A stampede and the grain of sand
is lost.
Cold, disturbed.
Where is she?
What does it matter,
she’s still insignificant.

You would think that after
shedding so many tears
and filling so many
notebooks with ink
that the supply would eventually run out.
But that’s life I suppose.
The highs and lows
so artistically placed
so that the other is creeping
right around the bend
when it seems as though
the now will never end.

I would like to say that
I could use a bend right about now…
but I don’t even know what
side I’m on.

A doorbell.
Such an extravagant invention.
You press a button,
creating a beckoning sound
in which your host
is obliged to answer.
It’s an attention getter.
Much like a telephone ring.
Someone wants to contact you.
They call,
your phone rings,
it is your duty to pick up.
A connection.
Not unlike a letter in the mail.
Long distance communication.
My words,
full of sentiment and longing.
A way of speaking
to you.
So why aren’t you responding to any?

the echo,
the waiting,
the distance
between us…

In the distance
lies a cascade of
nurturing waters
blessing all within
breathing distance.
Were you to travel up
its rivers and find the source
your feet would grow weary with ache.
For in this story,
the source of this majesty
should not be found.
The travel too long,
too full of history,
twisting and winding
around each jungle
and mountain thrown at it.
This journey has only just begun.
And any brave traveler
would find themselves
too engrossed in the story
to pay attention to the path –
therefore; losing themselves.
Leave the journey to the winds.
Enjoy the scenery.
And keep on traveling
one step at a time.