Hello, everyone.
I have created a solution to our confusion in a single word.
Dopsexual.
I made it up myself.
It has no crazy Latin prefix (that I know of)
But I am content with it.
In fact, you all should be,
Because you also define as dopsexual, in my book.
So does your friend.
And the kid behind you in math class.
Everyone is dopsexual.
We live in a dopsexual world.
Mwahaha.
No matter who you are,
Or what you define yourself as,
Keep in mind that you are also dopsexual.
What is the definition to this magical term, you ask?
Well, it
Depends
On the
Person.

Sleepytime tea
Soft purple sheets
Puzzles that hurt your brain
Good book
Reading nook
Any kind of rain
Picture of me at two by the lake
Striped pajama pants
Facebook invite
Natural light
Beautiful tortoise-shell cat
My bed
Real bread
Dark chocolate (70%)
No worries
DQ Flurries
And afternoons with no end.

It takes a shower of rain
Just on the warm side of frigid
Coming straight down on a cloudy day
To wake me up from the delirious dreams that
I often find lurking in the indulgent part of my mind.

9:43 p.m.
She sits at the kitchen table,
Head in her hands.
Taxes lay splayed out in front of her.
It's so many for one woman.
9:44 p.m.
Her little boy,
Her baby,
Toddles out, curly hair askew,
Sleepy eyes blinking.
"Okay, Mommy?" He wonders, yawning.
"Okay, baby," she says sadly in reply.
9:45 p.m.
"Where the crayons?" He asks.
"Huh?"
"For coloring."
"Oh, baby, I can't color on these."
"Okay. I color then." He waddles back out of the room.
Her head is still in her hands.
9:47 p.m.
Baby returns with a box set of Crayola crayons.
"Ready, Mommy? I color now."
He takes an envelope, crayon poised.
Her head lifts. "Baby, don't color on those!
Here, I'll get you something."
9:48 p.m.
She returns. "Sorry, baby, there's no paper.
I guess you can't- no!"
Indigo blue is spread across two bills,
A cerulean rainstorm where her dues should be.
"Oh, baby!" She yells angrily.
"I needed those!"
He stares at her with wide blue eyes,
Welling up with tears.
"I sorry, Mommy," he cries.
"I wan'd make you happy.
Maybe blue make you happy?"
9:49 p.m.
It's her turn to tear up.
"Baby, baby, I'm sorry I yelled."
She scoops him up, kisses him in the forehead.
"You're right, baby, blue does make me happy."
She looks over at the crayon box.
A collection of pink, green, and orange looks up at her, waiting.
She selects lime green.
It was his favorite color.
The woman and her baby begin to color those **** taxes.

There are those days
Where I would rather be
             Anywhere else, or
                      Doing anything else, or
                                  Talking to anyone else.
I'd rather ride the
                    ancient            yellow          Schwinn  ­       in the shed
To the cemetery
Pay my respects       to Baby Lanny
And
               think.

I'd rather drive to            Chicago
Stay by the Pier for a while,
Drinking warm cocoa                 eating a hot dog.

I'd rather stay in my room,
                                     curled up under a blanket
Reading and staring out the window.

That's not how life works, unfortunately.
So I have to take my                        responsibilities
And wield them     with a
                                      heavy
                                            heart
Waiting until a time
Where I can        drive          to Chicago.

My mother's second wedding took place in a butterfly house.
Her gown was lavender
My sister and I walked her down the aisle.
I wonder
If my grandfather
Would have done it.