hot red flames
pour down my cheeks;
my chest hurts,
you are here.

you can't be seen -
nor felt or heard,
but somewhere you
see me.

shows of affection,
scenes aiming towards my rocky foundation;
like that puny pebble to the giant.
i fall.

if squeezed hard enough,
eyes clenched until there's stars,
it's felt that you are proud,
or would be,
wherever you are.

The adrenaline when facing the gun
Feels a lot better than pride lost
Walking away,
But realizing discomfort in safety
Benefits longer than awaiting the
Unsure -
Rather the less likely,
Putting a target on my back heavier
Than I was ever destined to bear.
Wishing the shooter well
Knowing someday I’ll be held by one
With pillow arms
And a softer heart.

A message sent
At a crafted time.
Manipulative, maybe…
Best luck be mine -
Not you, likely never
Truth stained in the sand,
But one last time
Let me shake your hand

Banter
The weather
Sports, and your beer.
Non alcoholic? Why are you here?
“Tonight’s the night”
No, sir, time for bed.
Closer to my mom,
Mr. Salt and Pepper head.
The ‘tenders as inmates
Some lager with lime,
Expressing cheeks clenched
The duration of time.
“The ladies are splitting rations,”
They giggle and pour.
The crowds coming in
Time to head for the door

How did I
Make it home
And what’s the throb
Within my neck
From my brain or hips
Misaligned pings
Pain telling me something
Yet I can’t translate

Meet in the middle
Swirling each other
Two birds earning their wings.
The light somehow always beaming behind
Silhouettes now etched to memory.
Core.

Fingertips trailing my back
From one wrist, across the arms, down the elbow,
I lean in.
Rather than stop, or a crowd pleasing dip
You’ve waltzed away from the two step.
When did the time signature change?

Your left, and mine, we pass and part
Leading, you are no longer
Transition to a solo performance.

Leaving the floor, we exhale focused breath.
Shoulders still back,
Heads high - not subconscious.
Left, right, intertwined;
Now learning that even the steps backward,
Apart,
Are all beauty within the dance.

Eternally longing for knowledge.
A jolly laugh at my Christmas list
For a book with more pages.
**** and Jane, it is.

May one who understands
Identical puzzles will seldom link,
And gaps to be filled is the beauty.
A lapse is an opportunity,
Not to rejuvenate but construct new