Touch my soul, my beard, for appearances only.
I must look 100 years old.
We were kids when everything was
orange and red- the sunspots
creep inside my head.
Sad places that experience yields.

Paranoid of these fleeting moments
Panic at the coasters peak
Subside into a ride that’s free.
Let go of the safety bar,
Youth mired in responsibility.

Just the way I left you here.


Porcelain Afterglow

What’s different today?
The fog lifts and slips into the vents, circulating and awaiting their return.
Or maybe it’s in my head?

That must be it.

I’ve exposed myself for something more,
in light of your weakness- all I adore.
Silken skin in the porcelain afterglow- the sun rises on the porch regardless.
Regarded as dead to you, my morning glory is more horror story, and I expect you to forgive me.

I am the dew and mold, collecting in the gutter amidst my aimless soul.
Please take me with you.
I promise you it will be different this time.

I miss you, Patrick Swayze

When the neighbors writhe in simile,
vibrations make way through dry wall, tender lit on the old plains-
Native Americans thought you sounded strange too
Settler backwash, swilled on sacred land, and the Indians creeping on hillcrests disregarded those fires

But I can hear you make love,
and I hope that isn’t replacing lust- complacency for rigor, so routine..

How do you know he loves you?

Suction me into fetal pose,
sound bleeding through the walls;
lull me to sleep.


Is that how he’s gonna remember you- your face plastered to the screen, as the text spews ominously and superfluous.
Coming from nobody, nobody to him at least.
“I must be a foot note to you.”

How do I know I’m alive, when you don’t see me?

What skill he will have when divorce comes someday, the stretch of words that are never spoken between the living and dead.
OMG- I get the car and you can have the house!
WTF- I’ll take the social inoculation.

Enjoy the love that silence offers.
Digital space and jargon that might as well ease the pool of thoughts you thought you once had.
How was this a gift, when things prettier than me pulled you away?
Shinier things the commercial told me I needed.
Need to be close to “the ones I love”

The studio audience applauds.

Dad just stared in his palm. Dad transfixed on something more essential than me.
How do I exist when you pretend I’m not here?

Niceties shared by crowd noise, silenced by machines.
Your need to connect, while not touching another human soul…

16 to 40

I came across your saccharin smile, amidst the doe-eyed and sheepish, mistaken for wanderlust.
That’s just how we all seemed to each other.

How lame- you roughing me up with your sentiments, your discontent, the remains of my poise left somewhere outside.
Why didn’t I just stay at home where quiet is understood?

So eloquent- the well wishers knew something I didn’t.
I’d ask you out in the cold, I’d ask you to go home; we could share a ride and make this crowd disappear.

Here inside with so many faces, blurred between the dimly lit and easily forgotten- we lay our egos strewn amongst the dark corners.
Beside myself, I left alone.

The exhilarated moments- you balked, they were only mine to share.
Bitten by the cold night air,
the loyalty of children- misplaced over second thoughts.

Aren’t we forgotten so easily?