All for a Band-Aid

If we met as children,

I'm shameless in wondering

how life would've been.

I do wish it was this way,

because mine would've been

undoubtedly kinder with you in it sooner.

You must've been incredibly encouraging.

I imagine a playground scenario-

on the pavement I've fallen,

destined to scrape my knee.

As I'm gruff to rise from my fallen state,

your hand is out in front of my face. . .

Unable to look to yours

or grab your hand in the moment

I hear your voice asking me,

"You aren't gonna cry are you?"

I glance at you, sighing a single

"No."

So you say to me,

"Good."

You, eager to ask

in so few words

if my knee is okay.

"Do you need a band-aid?"

We're so sickeningly sweet,

whether we met today

or on the teeter-totters-

nothing would stop you from

walking me to the nurse if I needed you.

What a Diagnosis

I hope you don't hold your breath
trying  to understand
the lot of lop-sided love in this life.

Driving people to their crummy jobs
looking for a lot of lop-sided affairs.

How can you want what you can't have?

So the innocent half of the affair
becomes lop-sided trying to understand.

What happened?
Toss in a
How could you?
in an instant.

Horrified, you want to make it work.
Even with a 100% failure rate.

Yea, he won't leave his wife for you,
won't tell her you exist.
No way he'll let you meet his family,
or care for one you see inside your head.

To him, you're a problem
and a tasty one at that.

Lop-sided became the sad and solitary
relationship you're too familiar with.

You're Not Guilty

Occasionally,
a wave of doubt will come over me
and leave flotsam on my minds shore.

Perhaps a bit of sea glassed depression,
but it's nothing my mind
hasn't been able to polish
into something spectacular.

It's my belief that everyone
has these waves from time to time.

Unfortunately, for some these waves
are typhoons of guilt created by others.

For them,
doubt becomes impossible to overcome.

It's not only their shore
that becomes impossible to clean
but their entire city.

How could you possibly blame them
for giving up on their faith,
when no one was there
to pick them up after it was our storms
that knocked them down?

It's my job:
to keep my flotsam off your shore and city,
to teach you how to use yours to your advantage,
to help clean the scrap from your shore,
and-undivided-restore it to a beauty unmatched.

Loneliness Never Hurt a Soul

Easily manipulated
loneliness,
one of my closest friends.

Easy to have around,
with an affection
which can't be matched.

Where would I be without you,
loneliness?

Where is the time to think;
reflect?
meditate ?
or pray without you?

Why does everyone think,
you, my friend,
loneliness is a bad thing?

I think you're highly misunderstood.

You stalk each and every one of us,
with good intention of course.

To be sure we're able to survive
in our personal solitary confinement.

So in silence,
I speak out loud to you.
You say nothing in return,
all you've ever done is listen.

Loneliness,
you and me,
we're two of the most hated beings there are.

Denial and declaration.

Marcus

Hey,
I thought of you.

I was alive,
uncomfortably laying between the arms of
a waiting room style chair;
knees up,
head tilted back.

Now, I don't remember what day or week it was
or if you were real
or if you were something my mind conjured up.

Either way,
the hard times were hitting me again
and there I found you
always trying to cheer me up
in the most inappropriate ways.

Just taking in the hospital air
my mouth sat ajar while sleeping,
and there you came.

You planted one right on my lips.

Your stubble scratched my skin,
I'll admit,
I was shocked,
a different kind of breathtaking
experience came over me.

I belted out in laughter,
then suddenly
I found myself smiling.

You made me do that a time or two.

I fear reality may have been more harsh to you
than it ever was to me
but I wish I could find you here.

I can almost remember your face,
I want to let you know
that you've passed my mind enough.

A Sleepwalker's Amnesia (A short story.)

I found myself in that old ghost town
with a familiar sound ringing in my ears.

Was it the train running down the rails?
How could that be?

Those tracks have been buried
under miles of mud and dirt for decades.

I swear I can still hear my house
rattle as the horns blare.

Paralyzed with fear,
I wake with my shadow
laying in front of me,
train stopped behind me-

horns ablaze and unaware of how I got here.

Stammering off the tracks
as my consciousness decides to find me;

an officer pulls me further,
questioning me-
too tired and disoriented to answer
I ask. . .

Where am I?
How did I get here?
What time is it?

As daylight is approaching,
the last thing I can remember
is falling asleep
at home thinking about
what to do with my future.

So I find myself in a hospital room,
but eventually walking home,
up the stairs and knocking on the door.

Yet no one is there to let me in.

A man drives up the way,
unaware you ever left
the comfort of your home.

I know this one,
and remain calm.

He opens the door,
the first thing I see is a clock
in the entry.

I look at the time and realize
I've been gone for hours,
the thought of where I could've been
all night is absolutely terrifying.

I ask him,
"Where have I been all night?"

At Least I Don't Miss the Shore

Where would my happiness be
without saying goodbye to one?

-every now and again-

I find myself saying,
"I'm glad I missed the boat on that one."

While you're still sitting at your student desk,
you open the lid only to seethe
over some he-said-she-said
from who knows how long ago?

Your looks ran out,
your substance faded,
and left all of us in my mind
to question-

What did I ever see in you?

Well. . .

I'm glad I missed the boat on that one
because not only did yours sink
and leave you

stranded-

you never saw the shore again.

Can't Avoid Him.

Death is like an uncle
who gives all his
nieces and nephews
five dollars.

You never know when
or where it's coming,
but you know it will.

Maybe in a letter,
or on a summer visit.

Could be for Christmas,
a birthday
or for no good reason at all.

The good news is,
you usually expect it.
Sometimes you need it,
but don't always want it.

One Hour

A crow shifts its way
through a small crack
in the door of a jet-way.

I see the rain and lightening
through my passenger window.
I hold the perception
that I need to stay on my feet.

Stay on my toes,
because how senseless (is it)
of me to make someone
smaller lift me onto mine?

He creeps his way inside the airport.
I'm sure he will provoke fear
and disturb the travelers on their wait.

In this moment all I see from inside
this dark cabin seems to be;
the jet-way lights,
rain cascading on my window.
This storm mirroring my upset
with several strong beams of lightening.

All I ask is for you to consider
the shape your health is in,
for the sake of those
you decide to leave behind.

(Why Can't You) See What I do?

We all breath the same air,
swim in the same body of water
on the beaches
which connect our countries,
but so often forget how close we are.

Our choices are as important
as each life we take
when we're busy at war
with one another.

One mistake
could wipe us all away
in the blink of an eye,
yet we keep playing around
as if our human lives
are some kind of sick joke.

Humanity needs to take a minute;
to breathe the same air I do,
to let the salty waters
wave it's hair as it does mine,
to see the white clouds
swim in the sky of deep blue dreams
tying us together.

See, this is only part
of what my life means to me.

I would never steal
anything away from you.

Why would you ever
want to take that away
from me, or anyone else?