If We Sink…

You were there,

and I was confused.

You went away,

and I was miserable, yet relieved….

I missed your face,

your presence,

but could focus better

on what I already have.

I  moved on.

I got “over it”.


Then you came back.


Has there not been one single terrible thunderstorm since I was young?

Or is life itself much more frightening to me now

than the loud crack

and bright flashes in the night.

I Just Ride

Strange how the chirping of crickets,

through an open window, 

on a highway at night,

in mid summer,

seem to be the same cricket endlessly by your side,

though you are passing thousands of them by.


Warm night.

A thick dark sky.

Orion disappears.

Windows down.


I am 11 years old again.


The Night

I’m not afraid of the dark anymore.

I welcome it because it hides

most of the ugliness around outside.


We drift away from our source of life.

Further out in the cold blackness of the universe.

And even though I’m surrounded by billions of people,

the thought of that fact makes this season even more lonely.


The trees whisper to the breeze:

“Shake free my loose limbs

and leaves.”

And the muted sunlight casts a golden veil over my eyes.

Goodnight, Goodnight Rose

A chill in the air is Autumn setting in.

She can’t listen to Easy Tiger

unless she is in the city at night

or some other place in the darkness

faintly lit by neon lights.


In dark old houses

do ghosts say

“humans aren’t real”?


She had erasers strewn about her house.
They were good to have within arms’ reach.
She carried them with her in her pockets.
Because mistakes are not confined,
to the comfort of our homes.
But instead follow us wherever we go.