A visit–
the first in four years.
I am not who I was back then.
They haven’t changed.

A long weekend
stretched out by 
stilted conversations 
and uncomfortable silences.
Hugs are exchanged
as hellos and goodbyes,
impersonal and loose.

There’s nothing to hold on to
anyway.

A family reunion–
the first in four years
and maybe the last
depending on how
fate and time decide
to intertwine their hands
with chance. 

A lifetime missed,
both sides to blame,
and no way to revive
something that is long dead–
if it ever even took a breath.

When you’re looking back,
don’t lean too far
down the rabbit hole,
lest you should fall in.

There’s nothing
to hold on to. 

Both favor brevity.
Choose words the way
a good cook chooses
ingredients. Search
for what is fresh, flavorful. 

Employ precision–
mistake tablespoon
for teaspoon of salt
and your bread won’t rise.
Use a verb too vague,
an adjective too flowery
and the air deserts your poem. 

Each requires a reader
who engages, interacts.
The dish changes subtly
or greatly with each making.
The poem never reads
the same way twice. 

willow whipping branches
switch whisking backside
you tell me of my trauma
in yours bottled snorted
broken pacts
hiding in the wood piles
pretty little china doll
the cracks are in the
sidewalk and don’t
come back momma
don’t come back

Chinola passion fruit liquor

Reminds me of a different time.

A simpler time.

A time where I felt more me.

A time where the need to impress was not needed.

A time where friendship was easy.

I say that as two of my friends

Interrupt me.

To start a simple, casual, true conversation.

Then it becomes four people.

Then six.

Then eight.

A new reminder comes.

I am not who I used to be.

I am comfortable with where I am at.

It is has been approximately 5 hours since I started this poem.

The vibe constantly shifting.

Distractions used to kill the time.

The moon looks so alive,

And I look the opposite.

“I am happy with where I am at.”

That’s what I tell myself.

But

I think I’ve finally learned.

I prefer to be alone.

Except for you,

With your sweet baby blues.

Keeping yourself occupied

All while I riddle my mind

Over answers you already know.

Please take me to bed.

I think I’m getting nostalgic,

Lethargic.

I hold out both palms
to the air my lungs
have always rejected.
I feel the wind
play between my fingers
but
no matter how fast I 
close my hands I can’t
catch it.
I thought you were
like the wind.
But you let me
breathe you in
and hold your hands
with mine.
So I know you are not
the air my lungs
gasp for
or the wind my hands 
grasp for
because you let me
catch you. 

where boys change their names
so your friends don’t know
his name is something stupid and
he’s not someone you should grind on

where you’re reminded you 
don’t quite fit in the circle 
and no matter how hard your hips move
room won’t be made for you

where you think you can 
understand why some people
drown out the life in their head
with clubs pounding with bass and tequila 

where you stand still for a
very long while
and slowly forgive yourself 
for not wanting to dance

As I sit here
trying to write my poem
in the dead of night, 
the ice cream sitting on the kitchen counter,
rock solid,
I wait for it
to thaw.
 

Shake me awake
I’m sorry.
I didn’t mean to lash out at you
but now that my head has cleared
you aren’t blameless here.
You provoke the bear
and then keep going as she growls.
There’s a million excuses I could use
but sometimes I’m a dick.

If there is one thing I know
There is no one else
Who will race toward
The “yellow lights” with me
Blow a kiss
To the roof of the car
And hope we beat
The red lights

You never cease
To surprise me
In ways that
No one has ever
But you, you continue
To pull out all the stops
And keep surprising me.

So we packed up
Headed south
For a mere 72 hour
Sleeping in the car
Sun kissed, wind burnt
Ocean-side rendezvous
You know everything
My hurt heart
Aching body needs
My soul craves
Before I even say it
You are my life’s

Green light.

Sometimes there will be no one to go with you

And you’ll be on your own,

A bag packed full of spare clothes

Your favorite songs,

And no particular destination

Just hit the road,

Turn the music up

Stop for gas station snacks,

Think, breathe,

And just go where ever the hell you want

Leave your small town in the rear view,

Go experience other people,

And nature,

Find cool places,

And peace,

Take lots of pictures

Find out more about yourself,

And enjoy it