Red
as the Big Apple, body
like Jean Harlow’s
lips.
Luxury liner
of America’s asphalt arteries.
Traded in,
gone like yesteryear,
in its place,
sits Honda;
Civic
pride in progress.
poetry
One Thing: His and Hers
I might be going through a midlife crisis you know.
Besides, I’d really like to spend more time working on my golf game.
I want what John and Katie have. They look so happy.
And their kids seem to be okay with it.
You could go back to work.
I know you didn’t like staying at home.
Just look at Cash and Tracy.
They’ve been married twenty-five years now.
I wasn’t going to say anything but a few months ago
When I went out of town for business I slept
I Can’t Go Into This Right Now
I cant’ go into this right now,
But if I could,
I’d tell you
That the first time we met
I didn’t like you.
And since then my feelings
Have only gotten stronger.
I think it was your smile
That started it;
All blinking white teeth,
Eternal
2100
Since I last took a sip
And drowned
In the river
A few millimeters deep
That ran down your face
When I answered,
“Til death.”
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