sturdy and erect
branching towards the sky
healthy oak

palm sunday
with soft hands
she picks at my calluses

mom plants a flower—
in grandpa’s
old boot

circle of friends
pecking at the ground
robins gotta eat

early morning sunrise
tangled in sheets
entwined with you

after a long day
coming home to you
our brand new house

driving on back roads
getting lost . . .
in your eyes

a frank and a Budweiser
on a warm summer’s day
Wrigleyville

weeping willow:
sister swings alone
in the garden

palms pressed together—
she teaches me
the 7 chakras

neverending rainbow
brings her all the way
to the parade

radiant beams
coming from the smile
of the broken

long hair
chopped off—
her power comes from elsewhere

moonflower . . .
her smile
through purple lipstick

photo ID
the only time my life
is at rest

night train
in my head
making all the stops

picture frame
of us
glass shattered

black cherry
merlot
white carpet

high wind advisory
the pine leans
against a friend

running again
the smell of rain
fills the air

rusty pine needles
litter the forest floor
a new beginning

mindless activities
grass stain
on her shorts

scattered memories
moss covered bricks
hide beneath the leaves

the lovers walk
through the meadow
can't find themselves

the
 glass slipper
does             n’t fit

the medals
can’t bring
my friends back

closet full of
clothes
but nothing to wear

mom's purse
definitely a
magician's hat

4 AM
rain beating the pavement
I lie in bed wide awake

the songbird sings
on the branch
the funeral

she grows curious . . .
I fidget with the cord
my favorite crystal necklace

everyone moves to the dancefloor
when the DJ plays
the Macarena

fresh Sharpie
my protest sign
scent of permanence

young woman screams
her friend lying
face down in concrete

spotted by
the snake
we both retreat

downpour
the car turns into
a cart filled parking stall

Senioritis
here’s to the best nights
we don’t remember

post-grad gunfire
fifty years later . . .
"Vietnam Vet" baseball cap

unfazed by
a strong breeze
the Bronze Man

heavy thunderstorm
sitting in my car
at peace

Easter cookies
tempt me from the middle aisle
protein bars around the corner

pleading for peace
— white house fence —
LBJ enjoys smoked brisket

tangled lovers
like an unused puppet's
strings

Japanese rifle on wall mount
wondering
who died

getting a present
one that’s not gift wrapped
a fastball down the middle

unsure how you feel . . .
while I am
see-through

dancing in the dark
no one watching
my underwhelming moves

pulling the cord
turning over the engine
a 40 horse Johnson

the cinema
only place I want to experience
war

six weeks to go
add another shot . . .
of espresso

a hearse
pulling up behind me
at the drive thru

her head held high
to keep the crown
from tilting

ninja training
a boy
with a stick

the neighbor's orange tabby
a quick turn—
to lick its own belly

candelabra
working a midnight
jigsaw muzzle

I hold my cup of coffee
close to me
cold rainy morning

the little boy salutes
the veteran . . .
in the passing hearse

boulder
resisting the urge
to call her

boots on
ready to dance
the night away

light purple bud
breaching the surface
the crocus bloom

calloused hands
dad blows the sawdust
off the table

weekend visit
her bag explodes
across my clean floor

thursday migraine
in bed
all day long

perched
a hawk searches below
for breakfast

candle flicker
lipstick stain on the rim
of a coffee mug

coffee is needed
how many shots
of espresso?

New Year’s Eve:
my kiss
tastes like moscato

alone at lunch
once again . . .
outsiders

closed casket,
for all but immediate family . . .
closure

the father trying
his best
once missing     now found

mom prom
screenshots of disco jumpsuit
bright lavender

like the ocean
drinks slosh from left to right
fellas on the left—ladies on the right

a blonde and a brunette
enter a bar      always remember
make friends with the bartender

I’ll have my usual
Vodka-Cran with a side of
unworthy men repellent

growing old together
where the wind blows
twins

even the driver
turns to see
the hawk

sweet and sassy
Miss Independent
fake ring on her wedding finger

the ex that just won’t go away
there with his girl
his best friend with me

the female professor
mocks my classmate's knee-length skirt
. . . I stew in my seat

acrowdedspaceanintorvert’sworstnightmare

artwork
from elementary school
still hung on the fridge

backroad driving
windows down
hair flying

warm spring day
planting flowers
with mom

swing and a miss
before strike 3
homerun

drafted in 1968
with my best friend
only I made it home

my reflection
in the mirror
my scars

walking past your
hometown friend
as you leave the battlefield

falling in love
with
his bride

mouse           trCHEESEap

the cold rain
falling
on the headstone

gunshots
ringing in my head
. . . 20 years later

undressing
I close my eyes
to not sneak a peek

midnight gas station
when will the silence
stop     between us

not yet apart
but the space   grows
BIGGER

sirens blaring
parade to celebrate
Memorial Day

packing away possessions
belonging to the woman
called home

the piano keys engage
the mouse scurries
from within

heels on the tile
make it stop
new email

the screen door slams
for the very last time
. . . moving day

tin man
lonely
never had a heart

out of town . . .
she feels
left out

I prefer
your warmth
and no blanket

cat toys litter the floor
she chases
a roll of toilet paper

bird’s eye view
the ants play
beach volleyball

reaching for
the last piece of bacon
she smirks

snow falls
in April
“how much longer”

squirrel running
on power lines
my tv flickers

green traffic light
a sign
to go explore

cold hands
drag across
a car door opening

easy evening
she dances
along the way

April morning
the front door
won’t lock anymore

America’s favorite pastime
beer and a hot dog
on opening day

dark and ominous
I find myself once again
in the corner

a forgotten toy
becomes new again . . .
garage sale

lilly pads plop          as the frog slips

sunny Sunday
skipping rocks
on the lake

grandma's house
homemade
everything

vet returns home
to a new babygirl
only sees death

always something
to sing about
the birds

open windows
invite the spring breeze—
the cat basks in morning sun

old friends
discussing religion
common grounds

in a bird's nest
hungry
waiting waiting waiting

dozing off
squeaky windshield wiper
brings me back

a million books on the shelf
the one i choose
            suicide prevention

late night
wondering what else . . .
is flammable

Valentine’s card
no match
for a lighter

Spring day
turns into a winter’s night
snow covering the pool cover

pushing paint
across a fresh canvas
the colors of war

the string of lights
leads you to me
Merchant Street

mother wraps me in her coat
the smell of
cigarettes

soggy newspaper
a grade school teacher's
obituary

kiddie pool
on a hot summer day
for adults?

the winy wind blows
he grabs my hand
once more

crawdad on
his bandaged fingers
one claw missing

he changes his plans
for me
midnight Walmart rush

cauliflower crust
cheese and spinach
a good pizza

Fairview parking lot
I sit in my silence
next to her grief

hiding scars
under the lace
of my wedding dress

muddy paw prints
on my carpet
. . . that's not mud

rainy day
canvas shoes      no umbrella
hot mess

longneck bottles
the waitress
smiles back

last coffee date
no more
common grounds

triangles
mom slices my
cheese toastie

Taco Bell
our Dead Poet's Society
cave

the mild sauce packet
drenching the beef and cheese
dollar-twenty-nine

rice, beans, and cheese
spilling from my burrito
should have grabbed a spork

fall from glory
the nacho
evades his mouth

cheesy beef
a chubby kid
at taco bell

eating with friends
whatever happened to
the taco bell chihuahua?

missing his mouth
the young man apologizes
drippy cheese chin

mild hot sauce
because I’m
hot enough

rock and roll music
she drops a sauce packet
“it’s a secret”

six sit at the bar
painting the chalupa
with cheese

Taco Bell
I've gotta Baja Blast . . .
to the bathroom

blue minivan
too weak
to close the door