some factoids re me:

I live in LA (Cali).
I like to jog, to stay fit,
bonus is that got great
killer long legs, another
smoke smothering reason
to run my **** off

now the big secret!

am only human,
au courant, single, in bested~
busted, heart recovery mode,
looking for a rebound takeaway,
and “really cautious”
ain’t a word in my vocab
(just a little version)
borm elemental stuff

don’t! mock, critique,
hell, don’t even speak,
a romantic idiot believes
that love is impossibly
hard to uncover, ergo,
grab it like when you
smell it close by,
yum, like warm oven
fresh brioche bread

Anyway,
(set the scene, my momma sez)

love to endorphin~run by
water, Palisades Park, my haunt,
run along Ocean Avenue,
breathtaking panoramic
views of Santa Monica Bay
from atop the sandstone bluffs

believe it, my eyes drift upward,
checking out the scenery,
checking out the scene,
writing/ singing/ watch
feedbacking my reality,
check, check, and checking
as well, the competition ,
the lionesses, and the lions

eyes up, toe down,
slight irregular
sidewalk jutting,
me tumbling,
scratches,multicolored
bruises in many places
surely to follow in the
shortly thereafter, but my
ankle is screaming at me,
clearly more upsetting
than
a typical normative,
upsetting upset regretting

eyes closed, combo
of brilliant sun,  +
pain waves rendering
me semi-blinded,
hearing functioning,
voice saying, let me
please, let us
take a quick 👀

he had me at the
us,^
now acting cool,
overlooking him over,
easy, but required me to
overlook as well
my twisted agoniste

(ageoniste: A muscle that is controlled by the action of an antagonist with which it is
paired (paired!!!*)

still groan whimpering,
tres tres embarrassing
and hopefully endearing,
hearing this: “Hi! it’s Michael,
need an ambulance at this location,
probably just a twisted ankle,
assorted contusions, possible
concussion, needs a full set
of x-rays..

Ok. Who has an ambulance service
on speed dial

on and  on the story
gies, flows, cries and
finally cracks:

this dark tan slim man
is an ER doc, who
picks
packs
pecks
me up,
but wont
tell me his last name
or why he only smiles
so sadly

somewhere on the way
he says:

cant stay with you
but you’ll be all fixed up
and soon be better,
and when your running
always be looking ahead
five, maybe ten feet

I
do the most
unpredictable
unlikely
ridiculous
thing I’ve
ever done:
weeping don’t leave me,
repeatedly repeatedly,
and he renders tender
with its
just a fender ******
and you will most excellently
recover

somewhere
on the ride
I believe
he quiet cautiously whispers
you’re beautiful and lovely
but I dare not
no longer allows himself
to get involved with patients,
it always end badly

a year later,
wrote my next poem

begin this life in a wordy
but wordly habit, daily,
father-gifted, though different,
in form and language selected,
‘tis the one and ‘tis the same

tally, a counting combination
of all that has been done, for both
better & worse, blessing/curse,
the key: revamp review reset
this day upcoming and welcome
all the major tasks, minor miracles,
that one can effect,  select, elect!
by choice, a freedom so great it
tenderly rips joy thoroughly into
and from my cells, and my body
is enlightened, uplifted in this,
now a preposition, a conjugation, a

state of composition,

for the tasks given, the granted,
those that must be taken, those most
difficult, when knowing their choice,
entails pain, untempered, and
requires establishing a two edged
position of composure…

this is a hard and an easy
new proposition I create,
hard for I write on a tiny
phone screen, in letters so
small. it keeps me humbled,
a reminder of having
lived a span well
beyond belief,
for one took\gave body a
careless comfort,
giving little
of the differring
kind of nutrition in order
to live life, well and purposed

hard too, for my body has wept,
a steady stream of silent tears.
unceasing as I scribe,
making vision difficult, the
insight salty but clear and the
words contained within them,
flood for easy laying-down

for this AM workout of counting,
lists up and down, so many items,
of differring nature, even now
noticing for the very fitting first time,
the subtle hint within
differring,
for it possesses a doubling
of the enormity, the division
of what has been already
accumulated and what yet,
needs accomplishing, the tally
needy for resolving looking past,
for seeing with yet more tears
fast-as-you-can-forward

the tally never ends, paused only
for a quick question/happy deletion
of, and a resolute immediate, moving on:

Where do I stand,
what is my position?

keep on keeping on,
tallying has no finale,
no sunning/summing up,
for another day
will yet follow,
for you, and
your own
tallying must
goes on, on
and
not even,
nor even,
odd,
when mine,
mine no long,
and the
and yets,
no longer
commence

the lyrics intimate, me inside recognized,
and I find it hard to believe,
not to recall my chest actual
aching from a lost love, a busted
heart,that my family physician told
me not a thing  to be done, and time
the only known cure and that was
only twenty five years,
a just short “long time ago”

but there is no such a thing as time
when the wounded heart is pierced fierce, there is no round the bend visible to tell
you, love will come again; and you’re so
cautious,  won’t trust, to open, but irony it’s
the only way to find it one mo’ time, to
give yourself up in whole, not just parts,
and you “discover” writing poetry helps,
and a new life long habit is forming that is a kind of meds that you disburse to oneself

later be
this song below, Bonnie Raitt
makes you ache with her rendition
keeping no secret she’s been there truly

used to look to ascribe fault, but learned,
t’was a time waster, more accurate, each
of us had our own fault lines, dormant,
till not, and when the lines touched and connect, it was an earthquake off the scale,
and the tremors just keep on coming

but the chest ache was so intense, close
my eyes, and relive it,  and makes me
feel kinder, more human, less angry? more forgiving cause there is no mark of Cain
on someone’s forehead to indicate that
one is suffering the aftermath, the aftershocks, of this loss, so be patient
when encountering a human who sighs
out loud often, as often as as
every breath

listen to the song, it will untie your chords,
maybe making some memories resurface,
for better as it is part of writing
only love poetry