They call it *** for tat
I call it an exchange for that…

That favor you owed me
Oh, did you think that was free?

Do you really think it’s fair for you to take what’s mine
Yet if I ask for it back it’s not fine

Do you think it’s okay for me to show you respect
Yet when I ask for it in return you just continue to neglect

Neglect me, my wants and my needs
But yet I should stroke your ego and plant unwanted seeds

I don’t mean to be rude but I need to keep it real
If you don’t mind, I need something I can feel

I’m gonna need some reciprocity
Just give me a little hope and positivity

sometimes I wonder why I bother
to force myself to tell an other
what are my feelings and opinions

why do I struggle to attempt to phrase
words that inhabitants of faraway dominions
might also understand and not erase
an alien text for lack of recognition
of what it tries to say

is it just egomaniacal vanity
born of conviction that my words
are so important that only nerds
would not appreciate the wisdom
inherent in my thoughts

or is it logorrhea   the pathological obsession
to spew forth words without control
and flood the world and every living soul
with streams of incoherent syntax without meaning

I guess I write in order to communicate and share
exchange ideas across all boundaries
learning the thoughts of many different people
and in the process become even more aware
how much we share and have in common

carrying away once more the recognition
that division has always been
      and still remains until this day
the favorite tool of greedy politicians
against which poets   firmly   should hold sway

Watching the exchange of two people in love
really validates the small percent of hope
I have left in marriage. It completely overshadows
the bad experiences I've seen between my parents.
You see how she absolutely lights up
when he talks, like the stars have arrived
after a rainy day. For those few moments
of seeing real love, I forgot all my cynical
views and desperately wished I had that exchange.
Hearing him say "This is why I married you"
after she said some intelligent remark about our
parts of speech work sheet, and her smile
spoke all the words unsaid. How so in love she still
is, with this man from their wedding ten years ago, and a kid throughout their ongoing journey. They are a story
so rarely told, and I want to shout to the world that love
remains alive.

An exchange of hearts,
the closest we could get to a touch;
nobody thinking about what would happen
when our bodies rejected the hearts
and we died because of the love that we craved.

To ogle you
every time
I have to find
an excuse
     new.
Lucky you!
you have
a legitimate excuse
each time.
Even the most
clandestine moves
my eyes deftly make,
wouldn't miss,
your notice.
In a swift move
you bind them
with yours
while they
illegally steal you
inch by inch,
head to toe.
Then,I witness
the magic,
only love could
perform;
with the
language of light
in which
your eyes are adept,
you demand me to acquire
legality, in a date, not too late.

He wears a Beanie
Aviator Sunglasses
Stumble over wheels
Look
Eye contact
I smile
You blow a kiss
I want to wink
I don't
I smile
I like you
I'll never see you again
Bicycle boy.

It hurts, seeing the way he looks at her just hurts.
It makes me wonder if someday I’ll find someone who will be willing to give away those looks.
I wish we connected, the way he connects with her: without pretending we do.
I don’t know yet if they are onto something, but I can tell you, it isn't good.

I woke up
and found my friend far away
as I ponder what a friend is
and how soon can we all Skype
if it really matters
when you come to visit
will I have gone
swallowed your abandoned names and words
as you pull upon my own discarded pages
and we miss us
as we long to be each other
be ourselves in muscled trueness
Sure the other's place
will round our arms with the strength we lack
walking new streets
exercising our tongues on the ancient, baby green phrases
watch our skin contract
as we learn to deftly act
and somersault through agate hoops
mine for yours
yours for mine
we love to change traditions