humanity is like a dish.

it can go through so much, but eventually it's color will fade.
you can reuse it, and wash it and it'll look brand new.
and if you press your knife to hard or slam it down on the table, it could chip.
and maybe you have super glue just lying around, so hey why not?
fix that old plate up.
and it can be put out for anyone,
anyone at al can use it,
and in a store when you decide hmmm should i buy, and take it home or what
you decide on the way it looks, whether it's the right color or size
and when you decide to get rid of it, you decide on how empty that superglue containers been getten
cause that plate was used oh so many times, it's color has faded
and it has more than just a couple chips.
so to the garbage it goes.
and so
you go back to the store to but a new plate, maybe a different color, this time, eh?

I want to write
Without letters
I want to kiss you
Without lips
I want to choose
without thinking
I want you
Without me

the heart aches
like
earthquakes.

today
i allowed myself to feel
heartbreak
one very last time for you.

the sun was settling,
silhouetting the city

it felt like
the burial site of massacred dreams.

My Liberal pal, named Sunny,
And I were quite the pair.
He was redistributionist
while I was laissez faire.
We always argued politics-
about welfare or day care.
Each was convinced the other
was deluded past repair.

“We are our brother’s keeper!
On poverty, make war!”
I said poverty was winning
if he’d bother to keep score.
And so it went, as time was spent
Until one night in Queens
When I espied a beggar
looking frail, quite pale and lean.
“Sunny, quick, give me a buck.”
as our car approached the light
I quickly rolled my window down-
I think it made her night.
“It’s sure fun being liberal!”
I said to my pal, Sunny.
“It’s pleasant being generous
with other people’s money.”
Published today 11.03

i was just a star
lost in the sky
until you wished on me.