I am

too much, she says.


I laugh

too loud.



as if I’ve always been there.


Leave a little for others to do?

Those who signed up early?


I yell

I am risk averse.


Spirits, curse me down.

Be terse with your actions and language?


How could you forget?

I once knew someone who died of a broken heart.




I’ll give you the truth.

In my dreams I stand guard.


Malcolm X style.

No guns.


Curtains closed,

just pose.


Like I can make a difference.

Like I am enough.


Like I’ve got a one-way connection with God,

even though I don’t believe.


I curse his name for giving me gifts

I can’t use.


Time – I have it.

She hasn’t.


Can we do a trade, Lord, if you exist?

A few years from me to her?



she’s done nothing wrong


and I have taken risks,

that, by rights, shouldn’t have paid off.





if you’re listening –


You know,

I once knew someone


who died

of a broken heart.



if that is possible,


then my oldest friend can live longer,

beat an incurable disease


by being blasted

with positive words, deeds, actions?




No more flowers,

she chuckles.





Ones timed to open

when the others fade.


She has forgotten

the hay fever of our youth.




No more,

she laughs.


I bombard

by any means necessary.



I don’t do wreaths.


Nobody goes out

without a fight on my watch.


My eyes are running in winter.

Our summer times will be forever.


I cry

Too much.

Wide Awake in Dream Land