I want to cry on the subway.
I want to dance in the ocean with the waves crashing on the rocks behind me.
I want to see a lemon purple sunset mirrored in my mother's eyes.
I want to eat the whole cake.
I want to read a thousand words and learn every one.
I want to sleep in the desert, in a truck bed, staring at the stars.
I want to buy the shoes.
I want to wear the shoes.
I want to break the heels of the shoes on a long walk up a hill, drunk, shouting into the early morning air.
I want to collapse in bed before the sun hits the skyline and dream I was driving up the coast and my car took off into the air, passing up the birds, the planes, looking over the houses and the people.
I want to actually mean it, whatever it is.
I want to wake up and know that I did it, glorious me, did glorious it.
I want your ****.

It’s like,
I want to stay in and also get out,
it’s like I want some company,
but don’t want to deal with the accompanying conversation,

it’s like I like humans,
but I don’t like what they’re about,
it’s like I like life,
but I’m tired of living,

it’s like everything seems to matter so much,
at the same time nothing seems to matter at all,
and I really want to share all this to someone,
and I’ve got the new iPhone in my hand but no one to call,

how’d I become so good,
at Social Self-Sabotage,
saw a hoodie that said Anti-Social Socialite,
and it felt like mind reading because that’s what I’d thought,

dressed to the nines as we dance with the Devil,
at the same time as we waltz with God,
“Put your left foot in pull your left foot out,
you do the Hokie-Pokie what’s this all about?”,

it’s like,
I want to stay in and also get out,
it’s like I want some company,
but don’t want to deal with the accompanying conversation…

∆ LaLux ∆

October 6th, 2018
Venice, California

This poem is an ice cube
just pick it up and see
the colors and emotions there
are frozen for all of time
please turn it over and behold
when up against the light
look hard and you will see it flash
reflections of yourself
feel the coldness as it starts
to melt and run with ease
through fingers numb with icy pain
and now with puddles in your lap
this poem's a part of you

Ronnie couldn’t talk
And be rhymless at all.
He could barely walk,
I'm pretty sure he'd fall,
Unless he was rhyming.
He said to me, “You see
The thing is with me
It all has to do with timing.

The cadence when I walk
Become words I hear,
The beat when someone talks
Makes a poem in my ear,
Then the rhyming begins
And seems to make good sense.
The words like magic appear
Poetic possibilities immense.”

All of the time I knew him
It seemed to be the truth
He rhymed almost constantly
From his very verbal youth.
He was like a Hallmark card
Sometimes saying pithy things
That fit the moment exactly
And had that ***** ring.

But other times his utterances
Were acerbic and very witty.
When it came to sarcastic tilt
He was the Mayor of Snark City.
Or he could rhyme endearingly
And paint pictures with his words
Saying some of the nicest things
That were ever put into words.

Yes, he was Rhyming Ronnie,
A poem for any current thought.
You couldn’t stump him even once.
At least not that I ever caught.
Ryan was amazing for sure
And some found it rather vexing.
But oh boy in the internet age
It came in handy when texting!

Boop
On
Run fun not.
Eak peak
Doof
Oof
Maloon