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.

insomnia

i toss and turn,
addresses of rural
areas racing through
my mind

i'm searching for
something i missed,
a clue, a sign,
the way forward.

all i find are
circular paths
ending at
the beginning

why won't she
wake me up
why won't she
wake me up?

299.00 (F84.0)

i get angry when
i can't find my shoes
then i remember
he can't even tie his own.

money stresses me out
by never having enough
then i remember
he'll never have any to spend.

final exams nearly kill me
physics, biology, math.
then i remember
he's twenty and learning to write.

he keeps me grateful
and i'm blessed he's my brother
but i question the unfairness
of whether that is his destiny.

burning man

how comforting it is to know
my place on the cosmic scale,
a minutiae of the world, which
in turn is one of the universe.

no bigger than the spec of
stardust that exploded
and gave life to the stars
and galaxies - and me.

for if i know i am so small,
and so is the earth, sun,
milky way, galaxy cluster,
and possibly universe ...

then i am really no different
at all, just another speck
of stardust, after some fashion,
drifting through existence.

crazy love

it wasn't until i was halfway home
on that five hour drive
from her house to mine,
after i had ended it all.

it struck me suddenly
as the radio static cleared,
each mile closer to the city,
sharpening feelings and memories.

it -- it was the song i heard,
the one on the record she played
during one of our first nights together
absorbed on her living room floor.

♪ love, love, love, love
crazy love ♪

for the other two and half hours
i recalled mostly the good times
just like that one night,
when we conceived crazy love.

life changing events

they say that your life can change
in the blink of an eye.
i never really considered it,
until it happened to me.

as many stories start: we were in love,
going on three and a half years
with nothing but blissful uncertainty
of the future we'd share together.

i know in my heart
we were meant to be.
i was never so sure of anything
than i was my love for him.

one weekend, a friend calls,
their voice teeming with urgency,
telling me to drive over --
it had something to do with him.

the drive over was the longest of my life,
events flashed through my mind,
things that i'd never get to experience:
anniversaries, recitals, graduations.

when i finally reached the house
i bolted from the car, still running,
and nearly tore down the front door
to see him there, on his knee.

as i lean on a chain link fence
overlooking a baseball field
decrepit from disuse
it takes me back.

ten years ago, in high school,
star-gazing in centerfield
with my girlfriend,
under a blanket.

she's been gone for a while,
ever since she left for college
and landed a city job
with a family to match.

i think on simpler times,
when the entire universe
was a pair lightning bugs
circling lazily above us.

him

anxiety, curiosity, and doubt
mingle in my heart and mind,
not necessarily in that order,
on my first date since he died.

trying not to think of him
for the sake of my date,
but feeling guilty for doing so,
nonetheless.

the pain is mostly latent now,
like scar tissue, remnants
of a period of deep,
personal, despair.

i tell myself this is the first step,

to healing and getting better.

i'm hopeful for a new future,

but also regretful, all at once.

bliss

every other weekend or so
during the hot summer months
i pack up my car and go
to offload my worries

with my boots laced up,
Camelbak brimming to burst
and hardy resolve at the ready
i take my first step of many

starting out i reflect
on my stress, my job
all my troubles, problems
and how to fix them

sweat starts to bead and
soak through my Buff
crunch, crunch of the leaves
as my mind drifts off to static

work meetings, crunch, crunch
apologies i have to make
long overdue, crunch crunch
dwelling on my own shortcomings

it gets harder and harder
to focus on the anxiety
with each and every step
relieving more tension than the last

relationship problems. crunch. fights.
crunch. sorry. crunch. asshole.
crunch. guilt. crunch. crunch.
all while the sun beats down.

soon i am liberated
my mind at peace
crunch. crunch. crunch.
bliss.

genie haiku

love just what i have
love others for who they are
covet no excess

terminal

as i reach the 7th mile
on my afternoon hike
i drop to my knees and
think: stage one.

my vision blurs as spittle
drips from my lips onto
my shirt, just over my
rapidly beating heart.

grabbing the bandanna
from my glistening bald head
i wipe the sweat from
my flushed, blood-red face.

i contemplate screaming,
cursing at a nonexistent god
who had no plan for me
that involved growing old.


teetering on the edge of stage 2,
i reel in my rage and denial
for just a little longer,
without realizing that's all i have.