Yo-Yo

Epic refereed over-the-moon contests
were sponsored by Duncan Toys Inc
outside the best local movie theater
where we saw twenty-five cartoons
for a quarter. Plus the raffle winner
with the luckiest ticket got to bring
a box of chocolates home to mother.

The Luminous Mysteries

For the better part of an hour, I sit
in an examination room, my nose
dripping onto the butcher paper,
having feigned interest in the fake
breast handed to me by a doctor
at this urgent care.

A Broken Hearted Orange

The orange on the counter is no longer an orange,
It can no longer be used for its nutritious value,
For all I see is a sunset peeling atop the skyscrapers in the city.
It can no longer smell like fresh citrus,
For the sound of sweet jazz music fills the room.
The orange can no longer be just an orange,
Because of you—

Performer

He stood adjusting on the small white pedestal
Waiting for the lamb eyed crowd to bend their knees and soften
Their breath.
Looking out he weighed the gold that was still heavy in his heart,
Felt its warmth in his palm as he prepared to cast it into the
shining sea.

Sea Memories

The red fish dangles
Among a set of pictures
Stuck to a wall with tape
Which won’t stick for too long

The photos depict sea nomads
In a generation’s past
When fish was abundant
And boats were still scarce

Reflection Under Yellow Sky

Sitting at a counter in the stoplight diner,
I stared out the window, you staring back at me.

The traffic had travelled down FM 202,
Leaving the road dusty, chaff-filled

After the thresher had fed.
Only you kept me company.

Hearing I

You sit in a dimly lit courtroom facing Maat.
Her veiled face tilts downward at an oak
board with etchings that you can’t make out.
Shadows slither in the room, shuffling
into position but you can’t see them;
the spotlight is only on her and you.

Hidden Nature

Heraclitus said, “Nature likes to hide itself.”
At the heavy sound of human feet,
Chipmunks scurry for leafy cover,
While snails recoil and pretend not to be home,
And moles find refuge beneath the sod.

Thoughts My Morning Coffee Stirs

I believe in the strength of the first sip of coffee
and the rickety leg on the chair at the table.
I believe her tattooed shoulder, against my tattooed thigh
never altered the planet’s arch,
nor the speed cancer grows on a kidney,
nor how many children will be cold tonight as they sleep.