There is something

About the way that

He traces the yard

Rhythm and thrumming

A frequency of his own

In lines of perfection

The way his shoulders

Arching and protruding

Showing every back muscle

His arms flexing

With every move

Dripping with colors

Sweat glazed across

His brow and down his neck

The freshly cut grass

Smell lingers on his skin

Mixed with his pheromones

What seems like

Redundancy

He pours his blood

Heart and love into

The grounds owned

By another man

With the hope

Of tomorrow

My friend challenged us
Here’s a papaya, go buy a lime
I’m interested to hear what you think
He felt the change in his local market supported his theory
The neighborhood had changed

We toured the market looking for limes
Sure, it was a different culture, but the place was clean, orderly
The guard at the front gave the feeling it was safe

Found the limes
The girl at the cash register young, very young
Her face reflected the innocence of her youth
Small, petite, she was too young even for a quinceañera
She weighed the lime, we attempted to pay
With a radiant smile
she gave it to us

Three years and a day apart
two boys to two parents
who both came from big families 
with lots of boys,
the names we gave the two of you 
are not found in either families’ realm,
one we chose for its lyrical sound
the other for its brief strength

Like good boomers
we kept to cultural norms
threw away the TV
and moved to the country
to the smallest county in Kentucky 
where you two ran wild in ways
that could not be done today

It’s fifty years now 
since we lived in that log cabin
at the end of a dirt road,
you each have your family
of two children that you have named
and though we have split
we stay close  

The look of a perfectly fitted decorative apparel

 crisscrossing a 5X a week worked out sculpted body

keeps my beating heart in rhythm and purpose

My body and brain vibrates to color and symmetry

Fashion is my paintbrush to vanity, sanity and clarity

Color matching is an elixir for my anxious soul

Looking good feels good

Lifts my spirit

I enjoy making all things beautiful

a wall, a floor, a bathroom, a kitchen

If my home is tastefully decorated

the more relaxed I am in it

I imagine this makes me an artist

Isn’t this what an artist does

makes things around them

more aesthetically pleasing

My mom, was a fashion diva

Face made up

Hair finely coiffed

Clothes a recent trend

Body slim and trim

Of course not. And I don’t want food in my fridge, either. Or stars in my sky. Or purrs from my cat, or bucks in my bank. 

I don’t want cream in my coffee, sugar in my tea, or love on my lips. 

In fact, cancel the popcorn. Give me nachos instead.

Hold the cheese. 

I can make it through any sad movie, when your arm is there to shush my shaky legs, with its scent of aloe vera and love.

I paint my hair red
when I’m being redundant 
my hair brush is red.

Tides of history bring waves of change in single acts of defiants.

And on those long drives

Flying down the interstate

The sun setting before me

Hand out the window,

I’ll think of you

And I’ll let it soak in,

Before I let the wind

Carry you away,

Until next time

today I let my nose bleed