(2014)
A conversation With a true friend Leaves your life richer Maybe with a laugh A smile on your face
Most women are cooks But a man who cooks Is a chef She cooks over and over To feed the masses
I find richness In the mixture In what others disdain Young people lost Between two cultures
I cannot let you hold my happiness For your hand to caress or to drop It is not healthy It is not safe For your happiness to depend on an… I’m taking it back but no longer r…
He says I could never Get away with murder For I leave Pieces of me everywhere
Does the world need Another book? Another poem? I add one more to the pile To be left alone
Beautiful legs The right shape and curve Olive color without the green That tans and doesn’t burn Until you see
Long and slender Her every movement Deliberate and graceful Composed as She listens quietly
Her fingernails Natural Long Pointed On fingers
To be a true artist Must they be recluses Crazy mad or sick Or even better dead Show me a healthy artist
My soft spot My sweet boy I’d do anything for Who convinced me Little boys are the best
The more you treat me like a nag The more I become one I’m sorry if I micromanage Your clean clothes Your hot meals
I am unique In so many ways But while variety excites What we look for Is our common thread
Your pain is far away I hear it But I do not feel it Move closer Let me know you’re here to stay
The news hit me Like a punch in the gut I threw up two times From the pain Knowing that I