The price of happiness.

I shouldn't have,
I know,
But I'll look great.
Promise.
I'll throw a smile to the mirror,
As I reposition thick tufts, medium roast
And brush my teeth with travel-size toothpaste.
I'll whisper, "Go get 'em!"
Sauntering about a sheep in wolf's clothing
By the steps of the pool,
Eavesdropping
In style.
While sunscreened foreigners peek through their identical curtains
To admire my taste,
If nothing else.
The price tag is already forgotten.

Fingers

Allow me to stay with you in bed for a while,
as you uncover my half-cocked smile,
inhaling your laughter before
I shield my black teeth
with my fingers.
Skimming my free hand across your chest.
Touching my equally veiled toes to yours.
Please.
Before I'm woken by clanking dishes,
and it's known
the shadows on the edge of my bed aren't your legs.
And my clasped hands are just that,
my own,
waiting for you to pull them apart.
And rescue my palms with kisses.
Let me love.
Still.

21

It's Loneliness blowing in your ears,
Through the blackness.
Not her.
Not me.
So let Loneliness melt his icy grip
On your shoulder.
Let him creep back to the hidden mirrors in which he came,
To undo his hold on your stolen blue eyes.
Don't take his advice
When he tells you that you've seen the only person
Who will love you for you at
21.
Because it's Time who will tell you
If she's the one.

To Daniel

They passed me the mic
But my thoughts were a flutter.
They passed me the mic
Couldn't speak like the others.

I took the long way home,
Soles skidding by the beach.
Prose karate kicking out my ears
A solumn ninja in the streets.

I said, "I rhyme so fast
It'll make your cock spin."
But you'll never know
I'll never show, never let you in

To my life; it's bad business.
My friendship cost too much.
For the price of my presence
You become my ego crutch.

I'm good for listening, I'm told.
Sign your name on the list.
One day I'm buying your burgers and fries
And then you don't exist.

They passed me the pipe
And I waved my finger at it.
They passed me the pipe
But I could not benefit.

She told me, "Take it slow;
Daughter, stay true to the Bible."
But these commandments glued a marriage
That crippled me as a child.

I thought of changing my surname.
Daddy's upstairs, compassion MIA.
Christless fun before 'Nam
Never mentioned to this day.

No, God's not my problem.
Signs show He does exist.
Since inaction solicits punishment,
I must be a masochist.

There are chapters to my story
I don't want as an excuse.
Spent my life searching for love, but
My past hangs me with the noose.

They passed me the mic.
They passed me the pipe.
All I could do was
Run.

PB & Jealousy

That was the best damn sandwich I've had in a while.
Butter on toasted bread,
Peanut butter.
Pretty sure it was apricot jam.
Made with care,
But not by your hands.
I no longer wonder what you're cooking
In your dimly lit kitchen with room for two.
To relinquish my wooden chair
And adopted slippers, a size too small,
Feels less like revolution and more like the inevitable,
As I learn to chew without you
Without chewing alone.

As I Follow the Moon

Brushed with the fleeting feathers of your wings I bleed.
Abandoned, my savior,
on your flight to spare another.
The stain of my clotless tear, ripe,
shimmer for wind-chapped canyons.
Retreat to swallow the
careless or the careful,
with faultful preconditions of my faux callous design.
Your voice, a glamourous ghost
whispering hideous truths
as I follow the moon over the mountains,
releasing fireflies in your wake.