I never would have thought—
Wouldn’t even have thought to think
(And certainly didn’t)
A year ago—
That this is where we would be.

Now another year has passed—
And I can only imagine
(Just barely)
As the next one comes—
How much more awaits us then.

This gift, and I’m so undeserving—
I’ll never understand how it happened
(But it did)
And by extension—
I’m the luckiest man alive.

on sweaty nights after a concert
where we wore sweat pants to
challenge the social norms
and wandered back on silent
roads made even more so by the
faint ringing in our ears turned
slow buzz in recovery from standing
in the front row hoping for a better
view of the band.

the stars were always out in
majesty on those
nights

There are stars
and they’re burning
somewhere, billions of
miles away, and
I see them.

But there’s a haze
(at least)
between us and them
and all things considered,
the red road flares
out-beautiful
the stars,
at least tonight.

Sitting alone on a coffee stained couch
The youme contemplates irrelevant things
And raps fingers against a wine glass
Till its sloshy contents near escape

The youme refuses dinner tonight,
No longer needing the things that
Normal people seem to need like
Sleep or regular daily activities

How long a youme could stay indoors
Is anyone’s ridiculous speculation
Days and months could sail past
Before reality becomes a necessity

Books become long lost friends
And films become anxious memories
What could a youme possibly know of time?
Other than that it is deceiving

And when all is said and justly done
Who should care for a youme’s fate
When cars rush by like bloodstreams
And people exchange one another like coins.

hit the alarm clock like it’s a cockroach
approaching my child and
snooooooooze
just to wake up still far too early
to have a moment where the house is my
own, where i’m the king of the castle.
if i’m lucky, breakfast proceeds this way.
take my kids out. wrestle. feed. wrestle.
run out the door by 9 and school followed
by lunch with folk. spicy. often painfully
so. but diarrhea was part of the job description
i knew when i signed on. tea. not british
pansy crap. real fantastic, chest hair growing
tea. with people. anyone really. are you willing
to talk? yea I’m american. please don’t ask me
about politics.
i don’t carry a business card. no i can’t tell you
what i do. you want to die? you wanna go to
prison for a very long time? i thought not.
more school. a book here. maybe one there.
home. wrestle, tickle, wrestle the two year old
hit the streets with a double stroller.
i’m a family man.
dinner down your face, down your throat,
NEXT.
and hit the couch with reason.
television numbs some pain. books do too
but unless it’s harry potter i’ve read too much all
day. yea, it’s english this time, but come on.
then beer (if it’s the weekend). and bed….
prepare to whack the cockroach, tomorrow
looks the same.
from here the view is fantastic. holy crap
i get paid to do this?