It is purple sunrise mornings
the fog so thick it slithers
through the net mesh of our tent
and fills my cotton sweater
which still smells like the bonfire
that flickered between us last night
like the stars that wished me goodnight.

If only that fire could warm me every night
and I could always see the stars before
those purple sunrise mornings

could we eat oatmeal
in my dorm room again
waiting for it to cool
so the green apple doesn't
burn our tongues

we don’t always fill the silence
but i’m okay with
awkward chewing and sipping
of slow coffee mornings
as long as your words
fill the air not my screen

In the back kitchen you'll find
two boys scrubbing dishes.
One loud mouthed and lanky;
the other stout with broken English.

Amongst soap suds and grime,
clothed in long black aprons,
these two teens share a bond
stronger than mugs of ceramic.

Though the mason jars may chip
and hot dinner plates burn their fingers,
minimum wage is the thing
that keeps this quirky pair together.

And they dance around the kitchen
in those slip resistant sketchers
balancing bowls, pots, and pans.
Graceful as expert choreographers.

I can’t help but smile
as the crowd goes wild
the buzzer sounds
no rebound
nothing but net
dripping in sweat
wrist flicks back
time to attack
toes behind the 3 point line
the moment is all mine
my hands anxiously receive the ball
time slows down to a crawl
the pass seems to teleport
she dribbles the ball up the court
ten seconds to go
two points down

We cannot begin
to fathom
the hues of life,
painting an image
with only a fraction
of the possibilities
and capabilities.

We settle
for only
the tubes I have
to create something
beautiful in its own light,
but just
not quite

rite.

So many people enter and leave your life!
Hundreds of thousands of people!
You have to keep the door open so they can come in!
But it also means you have to let them go!

My life story is the story of everyone I've ever met.
But I still couldn't figure out what it all meant.
The more I found out, the less I understood.

Why I'm Not Where You Are?
Because I missed you even when I was with you.
That’s been my problem. I miss what I already have,
and I surround myself with things that are missing.

I hope you never think about anything as much as I think about you.

I tried the key in all the doors.
At the end of my search I wanted to be able to say:
I don't know how I could have tried harder.
All I could do was put my hand on the doorknob
maybe her hand was on the doorknob on the other side

Just because you're an atheist
that doesn't mean you wouldn't love
for things to have reasons for why they are.

I remember when feathers filled the small room.
Our laughter kept the feathers in the air.
I thought about birds.
Could they fly is there wasn't someone, somewhere, laughing?

I remember how she laughed enough to migrate an entire flock of birds.
That was how she said yes.
We talked about nothing in particular,
but it felt like we were talking about the most important things.

Sometimes I can hear my bones straining
under the weight of all the lives I'm not living.
I regret that it takes a life to learn how to live.
Why didn't I learn to treat everything like it was the last time.
My greatest regret was how much I believed in the future.