Her eyes are closed, as the moon drops down, and her superstition starts to bite. That was probably twenty years ago, with a girl I knew once. I can remember I almost cried. She was laying down on the nighttime, with the smell of the train yard creaking through the windows. With only the stroke of her arm, I could feel the softness of her life. We gathered eyelashes like ecstasy for the viewers of the world. We studied the French revolution to teach us how to move like a brown bear. But the silver-lining drew our life's in pieces and like equations on scrap-boards, we never figured our true meaning. Soon, we realized it is easier to hate someone rather than to poke a hole in their hearts. But today, I will feed my sorrow sunflowers, an odd way to make love; I will have trouble living with someone else.

I had a not so secret crush on a girl two years my senior.
I made a be-line straight to study hall to sit at her table.
When she graduated, I asked if I could write in her year book.
She sweetly but somewhat reluctantly handed it to me.
I wrote her a special love sonnet (of sort) in the very back of her year book.

When I returned her book the next day,
I looked her in the eyes, smiled and wished her the best.
Trying not to choke on my words and not wanting to show a tear.
I quickly and graciously made my exit.

Two years later, she showed up at my graduation.
She appeared from behind me and called me by name.
I turned to see her always beautiful smile and sparkling eyes.
Taller and more beautiful than I remembered.

Her sudden & unexpected appearance stunned me!
My reaction in turn, appeared to have disturbed her!
Her smile faded, then she wished me well and made a swift but graceful exit.
We never saw or spoke again!

I wish my actions had been much more delightful.
I was a nervous young man and lacked confidence in the presents of such beauty.
Still true to this day! I sometimes wonder how and where my high school crush is doing.
Just fine, I imagine.

A portrait of a child
Here he sits and wishes
For grasping ambitions
Too young for the feeling
Of content in the middle
Everyone around is feeding
On primal urges
They swing and stumble
But focus on focusing
They don't see the sky
With their eyes fixated on
One another and
All the shuffling feet around
They just seek the solace
Of safety, comfort
They settle for sitting and
Sipping, sulking, some
Perhaps weeping
This boy who sits, listens
And often thinks of
His positions and dispositions and
Places
Who he is to you, or you
Behavior reflecting the
Surrounding
This is the center, he thinks,
Which is a whirlwind of sand
Every particle a thought
Every thought an unvisited
Reality
Acknowledge them, he thinks,
But shall not explore
Instead, focus on focusing
Toward the edges
Toward the hills
Toward the hoops
And cease to sit, wishing
in the places surrounding reality

Alone, we both are,
Sitting patiently,
Waving white flags.

My mentality has reached capacity,
I’m looking for you, always.

An endless walk,
Is on my agenda.

I have the solution for us.

“Let’s just stand here for a moment and stare at the moon.”