little star

inside your eyes, wide
a wanting, captured
in light.

did you glimpse it?
the flash.
before it disappeared

it comes as a star
shooting past the corners
of the iris,
of the swirling blue depths;

a peripheral sighting
of emotion exploding
in a mind paused,
inarticulate reflection.

it comes as a gasp
a lunging of the lungs
longing for this air

it is the gap.
the moment before knowing, unsure
of the movements of your own heart

twinkle, twinkle

can you hear it it?
the song
written on the pages
of your youth

little star.
gone so quickly, lost
in the pupil's black hole,
an abyss of uncertainty.

can you remember
what you wanted
when you trusted
what love is?

oh little star,
have i forgotten
what you are?

the waiting room

if the TV channel can satisfy

and 90s music gratifies 

ears listening for sonic boom

you know you're in the waiting room

if magazines capture your mind
giving the gift of loss-of-time
to starve the heart from all that looms
you know you're in the waiting room

if candy snacks can satiate 

your hunger for a richer fate

and the fleeting seems to end too soon

you know you're in the waiting room

if reaching for the stars you gasp

at desire just beyond your grasp

under overhead light of fluorescent moon

you know you're in the waiting room

there's a fire in the rain

slow, soft, and steady

falls the rain;

a rhythm that lends itself 

to stillness.

there was a time

for each drop

to spear my flesh;

as lightning spears an open sky.

my body.

open to receive your rain 

-- forcefully, naturally, 

you entered, and 

we twisted into one.

now the rain falls soft.

your violence is far from me.

slick skin wrapped tightly; protection 

from the elements

from your nature

to mine --

a pool of memories.

but the rain still falls.

slow, soft, and steady

falls the rain.

tired

eyes carry bags

that do not fit in 

the overhead compartment

hands slip through 

the cuff of each sleeve,

stiff as metal

nostrils pick up the scent of stale;

breadcrumbs on a wooded trail;

for someone to find;

to follow

ears pop;

a champagne toast,

to black leather studded sky,

to biker bars,

to topless cars

and women

enough to sleep under sheets

of paper moon fantasy,

of midlife freedom

in red and blue flashing crisis

down the road already traveled

on the other side of the median

in a town so small i can 

barely

see 

it