Most of us need the eggs.

I once saw a homeless man,

wearing a Hawaiian shirt,

and when I asked him

if he’d ever been,

he just frowned and walked away.

I once saw a homeless man

wearing Nantucket red shorts,

and thought better of myself.

There’s something sincere,

About a beautiful girl,

With nothing to hide,

Raw and alive, filled with doubts

It’s much like a sunset,

That turns’way from itself,

Humble and shy,

Counting down the seconds,

‘Til the gloaming arrives.

Oh my dear, look at you cry,

All dolled up, your makeup’s run

I’d pick up the pieces,

But you’re not falling apart.

The Q Line Waltz

There’s no music or melody,

No harmonies to hum along to,

Just the purr of a car,

Riding along on its tracks

Standing, swaying,

intertwined and at ease,

we let the weight of our bodies,

carry us along,

And as you rest yourself against me,

I stand strong to hold us both,

To keep us balanced and afloat,

While we dance this slow song alone.

You’ll Learn

Too callow to be calm,

you jump at the sight,

of a man, destitute and demure,

as if you’ve never really

seen this world before.

Tonight

We’re doing just fine tonight,

with you in your slumber,

and me forging friendships,

with the bathroom tiles.

You’re off dreaming of warm

thoughts and memories,

while I’m pining for contention,

conscious, cold and alone.

The Renaissance Man

I have all these books, yet I can’t seem to read them,

I have all these films, yet I can’t seem to see them,

I have all these thoughts, yet I can’t seem to think them,

I have all these words, yet I can’t seem to ink them,

The plight of the man who strives for too much,

A growing ambition, his only crutch.

The Sprinkler

I ran under the sprinkler,

cause I wanted to feel

the artificial rain falling

from the artificial sky,

but all I felt was cold,

like an artificial snow,

in the middle of July.

Waits reading Bukowski. Can’t beat it.

I am a poetry writer, and I am fully aware.