I walk through the door
something’s wrong—
no smiles on their faces

walking briskly
around the corner
a hole in the skyline

granddad’s grandson smells          
sweet cigar smoke
no more

stepping off the plane
a city awaits
just me

alone on
point pleasant drive:
the summer corn still high

does he love me?
the last petal falls…
no answer

November 1st
on the sidewalk
dried pumpkin innards

small bowl full
of cloudy water
no fish

sailing the seven seas
engulfed in the waves
the few, the proud, the marines

finally
my turn in the bathroom
. . . no toilet paper

replaced bulb in the motion light
my dark sanctuary
not the same

restaurant down the street
childhood favorite
. . . a pet store?

sun shining
I hold my breath
as he lifts the veil

the wind tonight!
even bitter
to the rain-soaked flag

moonlit interstate
85 in a 65
the trooper… snoozing

eyes sharp
on the ball
kick it hard!

the car ride home
nothing
but the radio

stitching the quilt
a spider
unnoticed

same street and home . . .
no friends
just my fall break

the single fisherman
washes his hands
in the warm river

foot taps lightly
rustling of papers
during the exam

the old tree
beside her headstone;
now a stump

the empty chair
at her wedding:
for her father

bedtime at last
stumbling over
the laundry pile

sand in my eyes—
trying to rub it out,
so very tired

broken elevator—
no ding
on floor seven

silence
after he cuts the
umbilical cord

home alone—
mother said to do the chores
do I?

full bookshelf
endless possibilities
one spot empty

the floral print
of grandma’s dress
. . . new quilt

stained carpet & creaky door
but
it’s my own place

home
sitting alone during prom
nobody loves him

the widow has
his portrait
across from her chair

guitar pick
left in the closet
no guitar

the sequin
brightens
the kitten’s eyes

sitting on a lake
the moon shimmers
before daybreak

sitting on the grass
not so alone;
leaning against her headstone

pounding feet
I can see it
the Finish Line

alone
by the rushing river
skipping rocks

the artist's forehead
wrinkles—
the line's still crooked

standing at the precipice
I can see
for miles and miles

peace and quiet
finally I can hear
MY music