Friday, January 08, 2010

Risk v. Reward

after just a few hours
the smell of
your skin on my skin
had faded
replaced by gasoline
cigarettes and
cheap, rest-stop soap
and hand-sanitizer

I kept trying to find you
on my clothes,
the collar of my shirt,
under my fingernails.
you weren't there.
blurred, instead by so many
state lines and miles,
gas stations and
grease traps.

later that night
as I laid restlessly
clutching the blanket that you claimed
as your own
on our trip out of town,
I found you again
before finally drifting off,
the smell of your face-wash hidden
somewhere in that blanket or
maybe only in my mind.

I'm not sure.

but now
your scent is gone from me
and you are hidden as well
blurred by state-lines and miles
and I'm left on
dark roads, alone, unsure of
the ground beneath my wheels

and I should've said something,
anything before you split town.
I should've kissed you goodbye
on at least 3 different occasions.
I should've jumped from the bridge
and, you're right when you say
I don't take enough risks.
And maybe I'll take more of them
if you take a chance on this.

Thursday, January 07, 2010



make the best lovers

because we love to love.

Two fires flickering,

red hot, licking

at each other’s flames

and burning

each other down.

Stumbling Upon Dharma


just me and my wheels

against dark roads;

crossing state lines.

I didn’t realize,

until the last leg of my trip;

until my head was finally clear;

no longer filled

with road maps,

music, and anxiety

about my bills or

about how I could

possibly make it another

20 or more hours

on the road


when all that was left

was you,


What else would I call it?

The Virtuous Road.

The road that

lead me to you.

The road that

leads me

away from you.

I try to find some meaning

in things I see,

in my experiences.

I keep coming away with patience,

a virtue by

all definitions,

as you are virtuous,

and I am

still learning to be, but

I’ve never met someone

that makes me

want to be as good

as you are.

My Mother The Mountain

I drive along
pushing from 60 to 70 up to 80
and I close my eyes

I am driving by sound
and the feel of my tires running
in the tracks worn into the

my arms lock in front of me
and I feel the cool air blowing
of the mountain I am gliding down,
and I wish I was the mountain

eternal and eroding
solid and fragile
and I honk my horn occasionally
to warn any drivers nearby

I slide the car into neutral
and my right hand fumbles
on the steering column
and slides the key out

then I coast to your street
and your window is open
with that sad mystic music
dispersing into the neighborhood

I let my arms fall
but I don't open my eyes
and I think about that mountain
and its enduring wait