When I thought I saw you
in the checkout of the grocery store
I looked away
and then glanced back,
hoping it was you
and praying that it wasn't.
When I'm still at night
with the darkness and my thoughts
I think about your eyes
glancing at me
begging me to glance back.

I can already feel the memories
of my demented brain
taking root.
The memories I promised never to forget.
They will greet me like friends
while the face in the mirror slips away.
The sunlight will dance
on the yellow flowers of my mind
just like they did today.
And the breeze will kiss my cheek
And embrace me until the end.
I will remember, because how could I forget.
But will I remember you?

The changing season weighs in on me
like so many fallen leaves.
The crunch turns soggy like it always does.
The handle of my childhood bedroom is ice cold
and my bed is missing its pillows.
I can tell my parents are unhappy.

I take off my coat because
I want to feel the cold.
It's been a long Summer.

I unwrap the paper napkin
at the ******* Barrel on I40,
smooth the edges on my lap.
A father sits across from his daughters
and watches their childhood slip away.
America watches too.

Sometimes
I think I’m in the audience.
And then I deliver my line.

Soft line of the feminine
curving, growing, blending.
The smooth rise and fall
--full.
Fingers point to the desired one,
firm and warm they press.
Tracing back, grasping neck
--full.