1 - 10

Every night he coughs at the same moment that the cork pops off the bottle of Cognac;  I know he is pouring himself one tall shot.

We're reading two different books after I told him I hated John Grisham and he looked hurt.

Besides, three days after I started it, I was done because I skimmed the whole thing

after the fourth page.

I pleaded the fifth when he demanded to know if I really thought the writing was abysmal.

He has no less than six pairs of gloves, all missing left hands, so

when I rush into the cold at 7 am with the dog, I am glad I have my own.

I ate the whole piece of pie and didn't tell him because

on July 9th when he starts the bike tour which climbs 5000 feet per day

He will wish he had lost those 10 pounds.

Tidying

we have never been trained in tidying,

simply moving things from one place to another,

making stacks, buying plastic containers,

renting storage units, and buying more to

fill our empty souls.

how many cans of black beans does one need,

after all, apparently six in this household.

and how many types of oil, or vinegars,

mustards or jams, soy sauce or gravy boats.

the book says that in tidying, one's life

is forever altered, for the better.

Certainly, I experienced happiness

at this accomplishment, but wonder 

if it will stick.

Deleting Atlanta

I won't check the weather
in Atlanta
anymore, or how it
compares to Boston, Boulder and Berkeley.
I won't see the clouds or rain, the sun or wind
roll across the screen of my iPhone, nor
will I notice how cold Atlanta is in the winter.
For being in the South, it's remarkably cold
and grey, the trees lose their leaves and the
wind blows cold and damp.
There is someone I love there, but I must
separate myself from her no matter how painful,
I only know that she must feel
very lonely there and I cannot
comfort her.

Never look further than the next bar

ignore the runs of thirty-second notes
four bars ahead, breathe into
that single high C, letting the
vibrato ring in the air and fade,
rest during four counts and only,
only then prepare your lips,
your psyche, your lungs for
that run of thirty-second notes,
let the breath carry you forward,
watch the energy wash over the
audience and gently dissipate,
this is the ocean of music.

A persistent messy room

every night 

when I write my poem, 

I see piles of

papers, 

pens and pencils,

pajama bottoms,

paperwork and bills,

bicycle lights,

bottles of ink and books,

mice and music,

a dog sniffing about,

suitcases and socks, 

scissors and snapshots,

magazines and magnets.

every night,

I am perplexed

by my persistent

procrastination.

Asteroids

in the deepest darkest recesses of space
they travel in groups, as if to keep each other company,
like us, each unique with rock piles and sandy slopes
forged from the winds, the torrents, the bombardments of
our histories.
we are bare to the universe, exposed to the impacts
of rocks, ice, the constant wind, it bears down upon
us whenever we see the sun exploding
upon us.
they bear the scars of their histories. buried
under a thin layer of sand,
as do we.

The Big Decisions

getting married
having a child
taking a new job
moving to a new city
deciding what is worth arguing about
choosing to keep your
cool in spite of it

realizing compromise is necessary,
making them and being happy,
growing up.
buying a new car or keeping an old one
even though everyone makes fun of you.
being a friend when it's not convenient,
standing up for what you believe
even though you're tired

choosing to be you
and standing by it
while loving those
around you.