Snowy Night
I step outside on a white night
And take a flip-flop walk
where I shoveled the talk
to the side in piles
letting the crisp air race
down the slope of my face
and pierce my lips
with a footing that slips
from conversations I haven’t had yet,
repeating words you’ll never get.
When We Write
Sometimes I skew my point of view
To write as I instead of you
But other times I choose to do
Without the I that you pursue.
Perhaps if you or I convey
The pronoun that I chose today
To be the speaker I’d relay
The words that you yourself would say.
Complacent Linger
She made eye contact then smiled and looked away again
I couldn’t help but notice that our eyes would meet up when
She’d raise her head and glance to me
To see if eyes would dance and be
Slowing down flirtatiously
To linger more complacently.
The he-she-we sounds
Sometimes I’m lost in personal pronouns
The he-she-we sounds
That are our connection to each other
With words that weave another
Thought that sticks in the mix
Of he-she-we.
Hello?
I just received a pocket call
And all I could say was “Hello?”
“Hello?”
“Hello?”
I didn’t say hi
As if I knew
That you
Wouldn’t respond to
A hi or a hey,
Nope, I had to say
“Hello?”
Post Office Line
One week ‘till Christmas and I might miss this
Conversation with The Divine
Since I’m standing in line
Busily waiting in a blank stare not talking.
Standing in line not walking,
Simply suspended
Where footprints ended.
But I should start those conversations with God
Start making it feel less odd
By leaving two footprints in the sand
And saying a prayer while I stand
Waiting for a gift to be mailed,
A gift that wasn’t nailed.
Messy Passenger Seat
Sure I can give you a ride
Just give me a moment to slide
Everything from the front seat to the back
And after I move this crumpled up stack
Of grocery fliers and cold French fries
I’ll give you a moment to realize
That you might be better off
Not sitting in my garbage trough.
Dinner Guest
There’s nothing like a dinner guest
That lets the conversation rest
While letting our own ears digest
A comment like, “it’s not the best”.
A Series of Stills
Caught in shaded glowing glares
My tunnel vision soon ensnares
My ears hear muted waves as blares
Of flickering light, retinal wears.
I’ve tried to look away and do
Those things that you know, I’ve tried to,
But I’m caught inside and can’t undo
This stare to there where you look too.
Now socially we gaze and see
This glowing box so frequently
Our stares collide so mystically,
You know it’s love of our TV.
Drive Me to Think.
If you drive me to drink, I won’t drive.
If you cause me to think I won’t thrive.
The intellect sedation
in our stumbling conversation
suggests to me our wit will not survive.
Survival of the fittest won’t apply
Beer guts will be attached until we die
We’ll drink down to the dregs
Turn our six packs into kegs
Then pander life and liberty, or try.
BonjourPoetry 