I caught him sucking on the rocks. I looked away before he noticed. Then I walked around for three days, disengaged with the external, trapped inside, trying to decide, “What is it that he needs?”
The reason we cry in the end
Is to mourn the happiness in the beginning
A watery mess on the floor tonight
Afraid to close my eyes
Fearful I may evaporate by morning
With a touch of luck, I will remain
I’ll catch you off guard
In the pre-dawn light
Tempting the soles of your feet
I’ll ask you to surrender
To let go and fall
In love with me
Once and for all
The Art Official
Is stepping down
Is on his way out
To see the world
To find his true self
The Dreamer Awakes
How much longer does this life have to be mine?
Quick or slow- the question lingers
Long as it remains suspended, the answer,
Intrinsically tied to the space around my head,
An old helium birthday balloon
Occupying space long beyond
The brevity of significance
6 days on 6th Street changes a man. We are back, but we are not the same!
Slipping across the veil for the last time, the moon was not present- she’s never been great with goodbyes.
I’m most grateful that Zeke did not die on my birthday. I love it when we don’t die, when we don’t lose each other. We will bind it with candy striped baker’s twine in the morning.