urban

the city is sadness
and I find myself drawn to it
listening to my
melancholy music
as I wonder who is here

I spent a week in paradise
that lifted my spirits
than sank just as quickly
as the descending plane
that brought me back

why do I mourn
something I never had
why do I get upset
when I know what will happen
why do I care for a friend
that doesn’t even care to say goodbye
to me

I don’t have any of
these answers
and ask them only
to the thin air
I am sitting in
I ask the sunshine
I seem to have brought
back with me
I ask that dog
walking by
that just looks
at the food in my hand

so goodbye to you
I hope you are well
I hate that I’m saying this to a laptop
but it’s the only choice you gave me

on the balcony at dusk

the water is
blue and clear
like those jelly sandals
we used to wear
as kids

the palm trees sway
thin and tall
in the breeze
as if on a perpetual
coffee break

there are sounds of running water,
people talking,
tropical birds calling,
and Aruba’s version of
old American rock

the bushes are red, pink, and yellow
and are pruned within
an inch of their lives
this is paradise
so there must be landscaping

there is a couple walking by
in matching purple shirts
but at a break in the path
he goes right
as she stays left
makes you wonder
what that is indicative of
do they break at every intersection ...

Writing in Bagdad

I look at the calendar
big gaping holes of time
opening up to suck me in.
A whole year to get through
and all I want to do
is order tater tots
and tell that table of girls
to stop laughing
so fucking loudly.

It’s already February
but this year seems to be
droning on forever.
How is it then
that you turn around
on the eve
of your 28th birthday
and wonder where
all the days went?

The passage of time
torments so slowly
you could almost
stop to ask it why
it chose you its
unwilling victim.

They say time marches on
but to whose beat
I wonder?
Who got to choose
the tempo
and why am I
always running
to catch up?

simple

the last time i saw them all
was at the apartment on belmont
sipping merlot while making fun
of a drunk, mingling girl
for saying cab sav
with a hard a
if you’re going to be a snob
about it
you need to soften the a up a bit
and put the cigarette in filter-first

you with your mismatched socks
and shiny shoes
only you could pull off
with a wry smile
and your signature snicker

and you
with your bright eyes
intelligence simmering underneath
you sit
more comfortable with yourself
each time i see you

you were there too
in person
with your deep voice
and the pizza it took you
twenty minutes to eat
your funny voices
and joke cracking
an easy addition to the mix

and finally
you
walked in with a look of
unpleasant surprise on your face
i will remember that look
the last i’ll probably see before you leave
i can’t tell if it’s fitting or not
it can never be simple

i didn’t go to nw with you guys
didn’t want to be so unwanted
didn’t have the energy for it

each time i see summer creeping up
with its balmy, windy pretense
i feel the beginning of something
and the end of another
in that order
there’s always overlapping
it can never be simple

soon we will fly east
but each for very different reasons
home, vacation and adventure
it would be nice to be able
to package those up in the same box
but it can never be simple