end result

measure the slick imprint
left on the mirror
to track the ones you hadn’t known
to the end and prove that they (you) are
not lost

and tell them again
because

your favorite spoken word is please
it’s a different story in chalk

the reason you stayed was to hear
that last phrase

hoping that it was about
our last day in time travel
or the spaghetti bowls we bought together

the first of few
that failed

and that old mustache perched
on a face i used to know
echoes a soft reminder in my ear
don’t stay

i can see that the result is not
what you had hoped for.

it just isn't

the reason i didn't get up this morning isn't you
it isn't the cold floor
it isn't the shower that only lasted until my hair is soapy
it isn't the empty fridge, bare save for a carton of crusted over ice cream
it isn't the lack of matching shoes
it isn't my hair refusing to stay flat
it isn't the car windows that (still) won't roll up
it isn't the traffic i meet on my way
it isn't the man i pass everyday; we still don't acknowledge each other
it isn't the heavy door i lean against to open

it isn't any of that
if only i knew.

inked

"mine is unique. I designed it myself"
I bet they've done a hundred of those.
The citizens file in.
buzzing, the gun sets to work
enveloped in candid art
they ink a little bit of each person's truth.
A dragon here, a pinup there.

Go in on a quiet day,
they're chatty and real,
bored without their craft to distract
Inked up; advertising

a history lines the walls:
Their favorite
The most challenging
The longest sit

each is a exploration of the lead designer's
Abilities.
these are the true arts
on bodies, in minds.
fast and simple.

"Give me your poor, your tired. Your huddled masses..."

and let me tattoo them.

untitled

the lagoon, water brown and murky, clinging to every hair as i emerge
daylilies, blooming bright orange and friendly
dirt, on the back of every child’s neck, resisting a shower one more day
mildew, warm and welcoming, the sharp smell penetrating my lungs as i race through the lodge
every other protruding branch, we slowly feel our way back to our cabin in the dark
the spinning wheel, layers of crusted clay chipping off into my grimy hands
the pungent dust, kicked up by the fraz players, finding my eyes, nose and mouth
the water, the purest water i have ever swallowed, right from the ground
yells of joy as the last two ga ga ga players have it out in the ring
the click clack of plastic plates as i carry a stack and set them down in the low cupboards, the top few falling to the floor.
safe

treaty

we each have a section of
what we can see
what we can know
each is our own
twisted
refuse to sign
that treaty of less than and greater than
note to the editor:
banish tradition

a season for you

each of the freckles stands out on his face

brown

coming from somewhere

summer

soft, brown summer

the yellow peace smoothing it down

living green

enter: breathing heavy

dry air

eating my. yours. his.

lungs

wet feet and bright, cool air

we mean everything we say

dropping

growing up with cats, i had always had a very clear idea of the role of pets. they are entertaining, detached, and somewhat aloof about their presence in our lives. handling cats is easy. because of their "aloofness", they are able to maintain a separation between them and their owners. this in no way removes from the loving nature of cats, or the incredible companionship that they provide. the cat is there, it needs to be fed, and usually, that's all.
the first time that i handled dogs, puppies, that is, was disastrous. a friend was a corgi breeder and brought several puppies to a gathering i was at. you see, when you hold cats and then stop holding them, the verb that best describes that action is dropping. i drop cats. i think most people drop cats. i'm pretty sure that most people drop cats. and the fabulous part is, that it's what you do. they always land on their feet. it's the best thing about having cats. you don't need to worry about the end result. they always. always. land on their feet. now puppies, you see, are a completely different matter. when i held my first corgi, then when i stopped holding it, i did what i had done with animals the rest of my life. i dropped that puppy. unfortunately, the dog did not land on it's feet. it did what any imperfect species would do, it fell. i dropped it right on its belly. i got yelled at, then a lesson in placing dogs on the ground. i thought it was ridiculous. animals should not need that kind of attention. i shall remain, forever and ever, both a dropper and a cat lover.