And You, Too

With whom 

Can I share this love

With which I overflow?

I ask a question

The answer of which

I already know;

I already knew.

Hello page.

If I have no one else,

At least I have you.

She Doesn’t Call

She said this

But did that

She bit me

I bit back

Where are you?

She’s not close

She loves me.

Well,

She said so.

To Her

 Somewhere there’s a house. There’s a door to walk through. Inside this house there are walls. On these walls hang pictures of a family known. There’s more in this house. There’s a kitchen with cabinets fully stocked: pans, pots, food- oh yes- food. There’s a table too. The fridge is modern. There’s an app for the stove? Yes ma’am. Oh snap! A dishwasher. There’s more. This house has rooms. Four to be exact. In each room there’s a bed. And they’re all so comfortable! Ooo these rooms smell nice. They do, they do. Bathrooms in this house there are. Enough to go around. Books. Books. Books and more books. This house is a library. Vices? Just a little. There’s a clip on the porch. Little whisky on the shelf. 

And lo, the house is now a home because within its walls reside you and I and a couple of little half-gremlins running around of our make. Can you see it? 

Love Up Above

Is a ball of water round

I bring some down

And splash it around 

Not too much, won’t drown

Love is a ball of water 

That follows us through town

Weather-Wise

  Weather-wise, it was a great day. Mid-January in California is late march in Tennessee. There I was, sitting on a stoop that did not belong to me smoking some grade-A that did. Four grams for $20. As far as street prices go, that’s insane. I don’t think I’ll ever get over the fact that weed is legal over here. But anyway, there I was, sitting, smoking, when this cat walks up. He looked at me and I him. In that moment our individual appraisals brought forth a mutual animosity towards one another that was at once palpable and oppressive. From the way he gazed I could deduce nothing but thoughts of ill intent. I watched him and he me. After half a minute of this sizing-up he decided to move along. I was content.

   Ten minutes later a white sedan creeps past. Instinctively I make my personalized cigarillo less visible. The lady inside seems as if she’s looking for a pet. Out the window I see a hand shaking a can of catnip. She’s calling out to a ‘Mittins’ to ‘come back home’. The sedan passes from view. Not a minute later I see the cat from before, moving in the same direction as the sedan. I hope he missed his ride.