Tuesday

He double checked the time on his brand new Rolex watch as the subway sped down the track and into the heart of the Big Apple, wondering if today would be packed with meetings similar to the previous three weeks. His coffee burned down his throat and pumped caffeine through is toned body wrapped in a navy blue polyester suit off the racks of Nordstrom’s as he stepped off the train and bounded up the concrete steps into the September chill and light. Checking his watch again, he joined the throng of Tuesday morning workers striding to the careers that kept them up and alert, always reaching for that ever-distant American Dream; the one often keeping them from the family and life they love most in the world. Shaking his head to clear the gloomy thoughts, he side-glanced into FAO Schwarz and stopped dead in his Italian shoe tracks; his coffee filled gut dropped as he realized what day it was: her birthday. Glancing fervently at his watch, he decided that, if any, today would be the day to show up a tad late to the office; after all, he was there a mere four hours ago finishing up his latest trading project. Weaving through the crowd, he pushed into the store and quickly scanned until finding the little girl’s section, where he proceeded to select and pay for a beautiful baby doll. Wrapped in ribbons and bows, the gift would be perfect for her, he decided. Once more twisting the watch towards his face, he grimaced and started into a brisk walk toward his tower of employment. Grumbling at his utter lack of organization that on this day is causing him to be late, he glances at the towering building above him, but at that precise moment, a passenger plane hurdles into it at an ungodly speed. He stops, stunned into paralysis, the gift in hand leaden at his side; despite his lack of religion, he drops to his knees and prays to the heavens, “Dear God, thank you for saving my life. I’m all she has left.”

Poem

Attention-grabbing statement.
Self reflection.
Metaphor.
Metaphor.
E
L
A
B
O
R
A
T
I
O
N.
Pause.
List.
List.
List.
Line break.
Confounding revelation.
E
X
P
LANATION.
Soul-searching personal truth.
Drama.
Drama.
Metaphor.
Adjective, adjective, noun.
Line break.
End.
Pause.
Repeat until death.

Portrait

I can’t see it
there’s nothing there
something
a swimming bird
melting salt attached to the cactus
a wild flying watermelon,
featureless, majestic, free,
only to be hit by invisible fantasy,
gliding itself through a broken sky, an endless mirror,
blank stare trapped within.
There’s something there.
Can you see? It?.
Unless.
You do. Everyday. And I don’t.
No. I see everything.
Everything that isn’t there.
Nothing that is
I can’t tell.
a grape
from a brain
from a plane,
all in flight
crashing into the sky all at once, to form
something.
All at once, the consequences,
for that.
It.
I.
Don’t know.
Does it matter?
Matter like Venus’ rings?
Matter like brown paper napkins?
Has it ever.

No Exit

Listen in the night
to the pale, hushed
dim embrace of the void.
Don’t stare off into the distance
at an image non-existent.
If someone was there
they shall not appear in the light;
as a flicker of devotion or choice.
Still, they remain present.
Whether invisible or small
in the sight of your need.
Stand tall to fight
trusting your own will
or ignoring the plight.

The Ode to aRaisin

The Raisin
He chooses a raisin that catches his attention like a baby does in a crowded room
He chooses a raisin that has a more complex side than what it truly shows
He chooses a raisin that lays in the palm of his hand like an afraid statue

So He befriends the raisin slowly by rolling it in his palm
The raisin begins to trust him, like a neighbor he babysits for does
He watches the raisin as it reveals to him a more wrinkly and complex side

He places the raisin in the light and watches as it shines brighter like glass lenses sun
He places the raisin in his mouth and a beautiful sensation fills his tongue
As he licks the raisin a taste sweet and warm like hot chocolate spreads through him

But as he bites into the raisin a sour green apple taste takes over
The raisin has opened up to him now, revealing to him its illness
he prays the raisin was going to last longer, for the raisin he loves eternally

The raisin has permanently stamped his heart like a tattoo to skin
The taste of the raisin is still lingering in his mouth, like toothpaste in the morning
His mouth was the raisin’s world and it made an irreplaceable impact

The raisin will forever be in his heart like the love of his life will.

There are many things that come with frogs

A summer breeze

The steady smell of a grill

Infused with the scent of chlorine from the pool

Mosquitoes

Dirty yellow flip flops

Late night drives

In September, the frogs begin to leave

And so does the breeze

And the smell of a grill,

infused with chlorine

The frogs are replaced with other things

Football games

Chilly nights for bonfires

Leaves that begin to turn hues of red

While we wait, patiently

for the coming of the frogs