Penelope.

      We used to stand on the hot concrete
        at the city swimming pool
we did our conga, sloooow motion,
  First one foot, theeen the other,
            let one get hot,
then switch.
   Our backs and bellies bronze
         and red,
respectively.
     Standing in a line on the hot plate,
waiting to buy raspas and
      dried salted plums,
calling them Chinese candy.
   I remember the strong, grown up taste,
         was like a busted lip.

             Later, when we
found out you were leaving,
       we carried on as children
 will do, seeing weeks stretched out like years....
         That last day, we rode
              our bikes home,
     
          I kissed you my first kiss
                on your porch, through your
                            tears and mine,
                  that grown up taste
                            mixing with the roses
                                   of your freckles.
                     
    

Walking in Winter

        1.
black triangle
 heavy on a silver pond just
skimming the the top
 an inverted darkness
 ripples out
 to lap against the
blighted grass.
  On a hill,
             windows stare
  from a dirty
gray house
 the charred hands of winter
trees trying to pull shreds
of sky down to the
  hard,scratchy ground
              2.
 Blackbirds and shadows
  of other birds play with their
reflections on a shiny dish of
      water,
 little waves become smaller still
   dancing among the stilts that hold
             the chalky lace of
   webs up high.

              3.
Is it so strange, then, his dark hand
  against the lilly of her skin,
     drinking in the touch and taste
 of her? They might breathe together
          for a while,
   Leaping from his dream,
       a stone skips across this moment
          leaves him awake
               and lost.
     
   

Your most precious fidelity , beloved.

 Far off, there are flowers that will open once a year
 Under the whispering light of a golden moon.
 Cherished blooms that are more precious than saintly tears
 Know then, that I would hold that gift as ashes or sand compared to
     You.

Companion

You think you got some kind of
         boon companion, that lights your
path and makes you skip and fly over
       the heavy road.
looking at her, you see a pretty sunrise when
     it's a forest fire coming
         to turn you into ash and grinning teeth
Or how about  a cherry red, shiny-dream-vacation
         throttle open,
            facing the wind,
      stroking the road
                   her hands around you
              right into a
brick wall covered in busted glass
     she    
makes your feelings jump like bullets in
              a furnace.
       This feeling, my friend?
              it's the ugly cousin of Love....

  It's a wriggling pink
           demon that
    will bring you down.

you gotta throw it in a iron
   cage and stab it through
     the bars, smash it against the doorway
            kick it down the stairs and
        into traffic.
 then, drag it to the  river
        ,throw it in so
          it gets shit out
                      into the ocean
         so this pretty little disaster
                  gets crushed into the darkness
                             and eaten by a cold black squid.