How Photographs are like Highlighters

A picture is like a highlighter.

It’s our way of saying

“If you don’t want to fail life

You will remember this moment.”

But in a world of camera phones

And selfie-sticks

We have forgotten how to study for the test.

Instead of highlighting the key concepts

And defining terms of our lives

We line the whole page fluorescent,

until we are overrun by pictures of moments

That were never meant to be remembered.

Fool Me Twice

Honey, bring me the sunset in a coffee cup.

Pour this ceramic vessel to the brim

Of a technicolor sky.

As the sun falls, dip dying the horizon

In Valentine hearts, monarch’s wings, and lilac petals,

Make me a promise to leave

A salt stained mattress at the place of impact.

An eight foot trampoline speckled with melted water balloons

From childhood games.

Return to me the sexuality of youth’s first love,

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Why must beauty be gentle?

Soft, pure, pastel, and delicate…

Can I not be striking, spectacularly singular?

Purple and white, a brilliant streak of energy

Tearing the sky in two and bolting down the sides.

I want to be a blazing fire; an inferno that burns away,

Not into a temperate pool of gray haze and nothingness,

But into incandescent embers

And anxious tinder that awaits re-ignition.

Behold the rose I grasp in my hand.

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I Miss You, Chesapeake

I miss you, Chesapeake.

And the way we used to speak

Side by side in salt crusted wicker rocking-chairs.

You were never one to talk too much or listen too little.

And you were always willing to just . . .  be.

I could cry in front of you, dear friend,

And not feel shamed by my bloodshot eyes.

Or I could sink to my knees in your confessional

And you would bury my secrets in the chamber of a nautilus.

I remember how I could throw out dreams in glass bottles

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Strangers Give the Best Candy

Little girl walking down the street,

Pretty princess dressed in pink.

On your way in search of something sweet.

Large toothy grins for the neighbors you know.

But up to strange new doors you boldly go

For behind them is what you seek.

With fleshy paws reaching, the men you meet,

Dole out sugary little nothings that melt on your tongue,

And roll of theirs,

As they pinch your cheeks.

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