Oh how I wish that I could slowly sip the sweetness of summer without thinking about the bitterness ahead.

I’m retiring from my life as a spy
Just as well, cause that shit is lonely
They don’t tell you that in spy school
being a double agent is a long term practice in meausuring words
and gazes
Making implications about the future
Please take notes on how it should be
It will make it come true, if you only try
But I’m retired
From all of it, the grind and the lofty aspirations
I must find new fish to fry.

We drove down the narrow alley,
your 1990 Chevy pickup bounces 
over potholes and slides into a
parking spot beside a black SUV
and two large windowless white
vans, the scary kinds you tell
children to  stay away from. 

You grab the blanket and I have
the can of cat food and we slowly 
slip out of the truck cab, planning 
our strategy, quietly closing doors.

Tiny meowing sounds tell us they
are still there, one hiding under
a black SUV, another cries out from
from behind a row of full garbage bins.

We dispense the cat food in various 
locations, imagining that we can
somehow predict the frenetic skittering
patterns of two tiny kittens, left in this
precarious situation.

For two hours we sneak, bargain, urge 
and pounce until you, of course you,
catch the tiny black bundle that wriggles 
and finally succumbs to her captor. 
You patiently coax and conjole this tiny
beast until she is curled in you hands.

The  tabby will have nothing to do
with our sad attempts to block and
capture it, though she does eat a good 
helping of food. She darts out from 
under a van, scrambles behind a pile 
of concrete blocks, and dives into 
a thicket of poison ivy and brush.

You wait, resting and hoping you
can somehow will her to trust you.
After all, her sibling is safe under
the seat of your truck.

It’s dark, a man has come by to
collect his evening supply of aluminum 
cans. He offers us the food someone 
has left for those who need it, but 
we tell him it’s okay, we are hunting 
kittens.

We can’t leave tabby alone, so we
let her sister go, leaving them the
box, blanket and a bowl of water.
At least they had some food.

You look at me with the same big
beautiful eyes as that little six year
old girl who said, “Please, Mommy,
can I bring this one home? He
loves me.” I  know we will be back
tomorrow, hunting kittens to save.

6/12/25
KW

Some crisp and clear
Others shadowy and slithering.

I can lose great chunks of time
Lost in a memory reverie
Eyes closed,
Sights, sounds, smells, tastes & touches seem real
The flush of emotion
Creating joy and excitement inside

The unsettling flutters of dissonant memories
That disturb the status quo
The realization of patterns, unnoticed at the time,
The shoulda, woulda, coulda of regret

The finiteness of time and opportunity
Juxtaposed against the infinity of possibility

Preening like a dove In the palms of God

They always say we’re spoiled
We have it the best
We get everything we want
And sure, growing up it may have felt that way
But we slowly stop hearing it as we get older

We’re the ones that get left behind
That have to figure it out after your gone
We become the parent to our parents
We stay in the small town
We hear people ask how dad is after the accident
We worry about making sure they aren’t lonely
We ask them “have you heard from her lately”
“Only a text goodnight”
We get the least amount of family time
The older siblings go off,
They set the example
Start living they’re own

And I’m still here
Too afraid to say goodbye
Too afraid to be the one they remember saying goodbye
Afraid they will have expected more
Afraid I’ll be the only one to show up to the old folks home
Afraid I’ll be the last one standing
With no one to lean on

Where is the space between work
and sleep? These days I find it dim
-inishing, dwindling, into nothing.

“no new things” I said of this season
yet they keep cropping up
like bad mushrooms
shrinking the space for play

It felt like the air was falling down

I watch my country

watch its own descent into fascism

as it shrugs.

I have had to step away from social media.

All the speculation

about whether to go

or whether to stay

and whether anywhere on Earth is truly safe.

My trans friends debate

whether it’s too early to leave

and what the trigger for running should be

and if it’s already happened.

Most can’t afford to move

even to a blue state.

So they discuss

how to arm themselves

and to fight

and to prepare for the worst.

Suicide before genocide.

I stopped watching horror movies

when I began living them.

I can no longer stomach the lie of survival.

They gave Sidney Prescott a happy ending.

Then they snatched it away

from her

to make more movies/money.

Who wants to be a final girl anyway?

The last one standing

after all your loved ones are dead?

Life shouldn’t be a consolation prize.

People fled tyranny and oppression

in other countries

to come to America,

a place of hope and opportunity.

Now we are the ones

preparing to leave our home

in search of safety and a future

If you live long enough,

you will understand history better than you ever wanted to.

I bought tea cups 
with matching saucers 
I saw your life 
spread out with 
prices 
I wanted to buy it all
because I’m good 
at carrying 
a dead man’s legacy
that I didn’t even know