Closed Eyes

Through the course of life,
During the pockets of joy it provides,
When the world stands calm,
I close my eyes, for a moment.

Not to escape the occasion,
But to freeze it, in my mind,
A snapshot, quick as a flash,
To be forever preserved.

My smiling wife at the altar,
The world behind out of focus,
Our daughter asleep, far-off,
As the universe stops around us.

Everyday life has its own way,
Of wearing you down,
With our only defenses being
The love of those we hold dearest.

Thus I cherish them in the moment,
But keep them for the future,
When at the end of my days,
I can see them once more,
As I close my eyes one final time,
And embrace what comes next, with love.

graduation

rows of eager soon-to-be adults
line up in chairs, attentive,
waiting for a stranger
to say their name.

one by one, we walk,
we shake, we smile,
we wave, we sit,
we wait, until the end.

years of friendships,
romances, heart-breaks,
youthful excursions
and adventure - over.

hats were in the air
when i caught myself
staring blankly at the floor,
pondering the meaning of it all

when my friend looked over
said "are you all right?"
as i blinked it all away
and replied, "yeah, i'm fine"

the day of

i wandered through my parent's house
that i spent 18 years living in
as if i was visiting for the first time,
every room familiar, but foreign.

it was in the dining room,
memories of thanksgivings,
that i broke down
and began to sob.

packed luggage and boxes surrounded me
as the coming reality of college
and a change to my way of life
caught up to me after a lazy summer.

three months spent alone,
in the midst of an addiction
that pushed away old friends
and the possibility of new ones.

and now, over 10 years later,
i'm left wondering whether
my "best years" are those i miss,
or those i missed completely.

flint

i've been a lot of places,
but few are as unique
and none as tragic,
as flint, michigan.

where the soft glow
of mellow street lamps
illuminates a soft snowfall
covering dead bodies.

a crying mother, hysterical,
gently guided by cops.
her son on the ground,
freezing if not already dead.

with a past so bright it stings
to look at old videos and pictures,
to remember what once was
and seemingly will never be.

in a world rushing to worry
about global warming, nukes,
the next election, and stocks,
flint has paused, forgotten.

online dating

i'm a male, twenty-seven,
white, brown hair, green eyes,
about six feet two, one eighty,
looking for a match.

five foot five or shorter,
but not too, and around one twenty,
hair any, eyes any (redhead a plus),
between twenty-one and twenty-six.

non-smoker, preferably employed,
somewhat active but not too,
lives relatively close to me
and is open about religion.

also, like, it's cool if she has a degree,
but not something lame like philosophy,
she needs to be smart, you know?
so maybe something with computers...
no conservatives, no jesus lovers,
and she shouldn't have a lot of baggage,
so past relationships are OK but nothing
too serious - she doesn't have to be a virgin
but she can't have blown another guy.
(also while we're on sex it's a plus if she
doesn't expect me to go down on her.)
in terms of body type i'm pretty flexible,
i mean i want SOME boobs, but not picky...
and definitely like the hourglass shape,
but not if it means she's fat.
she also needs to get my sense of humor...
and it's a plus if she has a cute laugh.
i want her to want to cuddle with me
but also like give me my space sometimes.
if she can cook that's cool but if not OK,
but she has to like sushi - non negotiable.

<<MATCH NOT FOUND.>>
<<ACCEPT OTHERS' FLAWS OR BE ALONE FOREVER>>
<<LEARN TO LOVE SOMEONE FOR WHO THEY ARE>>

one of the things we forgot to do
in planning for my father's funeral
was cancel the newspaper he read,
its delivery one sunday a surprise.

my mother didn't read them,
but he always would, in his chair
after dinner, with a cup of coffee
leaving a ringed stain on most pages.

when it came i recalled
one night as a child when i read with him,
mine being a comic in a bazooka joe
in what would have made for a good picture.

i sat down with the paper,
and read every story, and wondered
what he would've thought about this,
and knowing what he'd hate about that.

when i was done i recycled it all,
called up the company to cancel,
and explained how we wouldn't need it,
since i was buying my mom a computer.

muse

every day after school
we'd drive over to kenny's,
where dave and his buddies
played shitty music for hours.

they started out on love songs,
which were easy enough to write
with the butterflies of a new fling
and the novelty of screwing someone new.

yet ballads like "never loved anyone
as much as i've loved you"
gave way to "slipping away
like sand through my fingertips."

like i said - it was shitty music,
and while by the end i was still inspiration,
i was no longer one for love,
but for heartbreak and loss.

dave had more muses after me,
each one providing a spark
before burning out like a flare,
a signal for help in a sea of regret.

if you google suicidal thoughts
they'll give you a hotline number,
which you can call whenever you like,
sometimes every day, for a few weeks.

you can call for any reason you want,
maybe you're fat and lonely
with few friends
and a porn addiction.

maybe the chic-fil-a girl
you think is cute and
mustered up the courage to talk to
laughed at you with her friends.

could be your drunk dad yells at your mom
and makes her cry
before storming out of the house
as you pray he dies in a wreck.

then again, maybe you're not fucked up,
or if you are, it's something else.
there's lots of reasons to want to die,
you don't have to steal mine.

secrets

the secrets to my happiness
is one i learned a while ago,
to let the small stuff pass you by
and remain steadfast in the moment.

trying desperately not to break
promises we make ourselves,
to spend more time living,
and less time being alive.

to truly appreciate the finiteness
of every minute, hour, and life
and avoid as much as possible
the allure of distraction until death.

to expose yourself to joy and pain
and be unafraid of what comes,
for it inexorably will, when it chooses,
leaving you solely with the aftermath.

whirr

during the final walkthrough

of my one-bedroom, one bath,

with the lights on and doors open,

i pause to stare up at my fan.

i recall listening to its whirr,

entranced by its moving blades,

as she told me she loved me,

and later, when she said she cheated.

laying down, i used to trace the fractal

webbing of the stucco ceiling,

sometimes with a smile on my face

and others with it painted in tears.

pain, joy, sadness, delight,

a cacophony of emotions,

a soundless orchestra of feelings

drowned out only by the whirr.

a non-trivial number of hours

spent staring, wondering, hoping,

as i am poised to leave it all behind,

start a new chapter, find a new fan.

driving home from college
at four in the morning
with tears streaming down my face
wasn't my proudest moment

fragile promises easily shattered
and smiles easily reversed,
the heartbreak i felt
wasn't the easiest lesson.

perhaps something steered
me toward that mountain road,
or maybe i wanted to be lost,
adrift, for just a little while.

but when a doe sprinted forth
and i slammed on my brakes,
it stared at me a pregnant moment
before continuing on, as life must.

missing

wake up, grab the soap,
shower, make coffee,
drive into work,
stay there, drive home.

realize the soap is dial,
remember she liked dove.
notice the coffee is black,
think of her love for creamer.

listen to NPR on the way in,
and how she'd blare her music.
pass that French restaurant,
she made me try that I loved.

get home and sit on the couch,
in one of two over-used cushions,
before retiring to my bedroom,
where I have one too many pillows.

my shadow

i first saw my shadow
when i was 10.
my mom went to the store,
and didn't come back.

it hung around from there,
in the corner of my room
most days, watching
as i sat on my bed, alone.

it disappeared during the day,
in the sunlight, as shadows
are wont to do,
but returned every night.

i battled and kept it at bay
as long as i possibly could,
even as it became a cloak
that wholly enveloped my soul.

i became the living host
of a terrible, terrible thing,
and knew the only way out
was to take away its source.

random thoughts from an aspiring comedian

waterboarding at guantanamo

sounds like a lot of fun,

if you didn't happen to know

what either of them are.

when you think about it, 

your shadow is light

that traveled 93 million miles,

only to be blocked by you.

they should film

a sequel to the movie

groundhog day,

and re-release the original.

on april fool's day a porno site

should make a video where 

a plumber shows up to a house,

fixes the toilet, and leaves.

i wonder if my dog follows me

into the bathroom when i pee

because i go out when he does

and he thinks that's how it works.

every single day,

someone on earth

unknowingly lets out

the biggest poo for that day.

thanks for the Internet,

I've probably seen more

naked women, then all

my ancestors combined.

if Goldilocks slept in three beds,

then momma and poppa bear

slept separately, and baby bear

is the only thing keeping them together.

older vehicles used to have 

automatic collision avoidance

and could take you home if you were drunk,

then we got rid of the horse.

cowboys who ride off into the sunset

will quickly run out of daylight

and have to camp outside of town.

should've just stayed put for the night.

the idea of a ghost who moans

probably came from children

whose parents were having sex

and denied having heard the sounds.

i'd like to thank the brave men

and women, who died long ago,

tasting which plants were edible,

and which were not.

in 500 days i could meet someone,

get married, have a baby,

get divorced, and still

be using the same box of Q-tips.

if you think about it,

taking candy from a baby

would actually be a very

responsible thing to do.

(from reddit showerthoughts)

domestics on 2-2-8-0

my dog, short, squat, gazed

with pleading eyes

as He munched on a

granola bar with chocolate.

"can you be careful?" i asked,

"crumbs from those get everywhere."

He wasn't having a good day,

and soon after, neither was i. 

it's grotesquely fascinating

how fast you can cede power

like a boxer cedes a match

after blow after blow. 

another: while sleeping

my toe scratched his leg,

or it must've,

as i awoke with a bruise.

i'd reached the end of the rope,

mine not being nearly long enough,

so when He asked if i was fucking his friend,

the lie slipped as i had a hundred times.

pong

the guy in the cubicle
in front of me
has a pong screensaver,
the one with the little ball.

back and forth,
whenever he's in a meeting
or out to lunch,
perpetual motion.

he died over the weekend,
now his screen is blank
as i ponder all the time
i've wasted watching pong.

nigga

heard a lady on the L lean over to her friend
"well i just don't think that if we aren't allowed to say it, neither are they"
and i looked over and it took everything i had not to get in her face
get in her face and stare her in the eyes and tell her:
fuck you.
i'll tell you why you don't get to say this word, because this word isn't yours,
you haven't lived the word, know what it means.
your words are found in SAT prep books and college classes
this word - this one word - isn't for you
it's for the 12 year old who comes home and makes his 6 year old who isn't going to school mac and cheese for dinner because his moms is drugged out on the couch for the ninth day in a row.
it's for the street corner he's gonna stand on instead of going to school to provide.
maybe - maybe - if your kid's kids' kids go through the same struggle, maybe they can use it, too. but not you.
you get so many words we don't. so we get this one.
you get "good evening, officer", and we get handcuffs and a face full of concrete.
so how about i trade you our one word for those three.
then maybe you'll realize that even if we wanted to and we didn't say the word, we still need to watch out for police, just like you watch out for your purse when you see us on the L.
don't think i didn't notice.
you take your stares, your fear with you when you get off in your safe zone.
because i don't want it, or need it where i'm headed.
i'll just take my word.

5 later

"i'm starving" she says,
on her way home from work,
5 minutes later,
i pull into the store lot.

"how was your day" i ask,
browsing the aisles for snacks
5 minutes later,
i'm checking out.

she talks for a while longer,
"i'm almost home, see you soon",
5 minutes later,
she "awws" and "that's so sweets".

we sit on the couch and enjoy
cheese, crackers, fruit,
5 minutes later
and we're officially a couple.

on a starry night in the mountains
lounging on a cabin deck.
it's 5 months later
and i have a ring in my pocket.

ringing bells married with applause
as we dodge rice and cheers
5 months later,
we're moving into our new home.

a balmy summer evening
i open the door to a surprise,
5 years later,
i help our little girl blow out the candles.

5 more and 5 more,
added, multiplied,
until i have no 5 to give,
yet she's still there, beside me.

i've contemplated it,
though there's nothing
to gain from vanishing
and never coming back.

i do it mostly to imagine
the look on your face,
the perplexity of emotion
at discovering i'm gone.

of course, i don't,
because i don't want to,
for myself, and you,
and our future together.

but i still think about it.
heading out the back door
while you're walking the dog
never to see you again.

and eat it, too

i don't know how to bring it up,
the fact that we haven't
eaten chocolate cake together
in a really long time.

it concerns me.
because i eat cake alone
sometimes -- most times
more than i eat it with them.

and there was that one time
they ate  cake without me
when i was right there, available,
ready to eat cake, too.

i'm at such a loss, truthfully,
because in the end,
i know it's my fault,
and has nothing to do about cake.