Postcards

Yellow flooding about me
as she stands hovering,
grinning,
in her orange socks.
Brown sticks poking out
of shadowed bins,
behind the street corner,
pushed aside
from the loveliness.
I weave day long
in the hot sun,
gazing at the rare flash,
freezing my lines
into your memories forever.

Fourth Story Window

The curtain hanging in my window breathes in and out.
Its belly filling with air upon each inhale.
Exhaling, the shadows of the plants on the sill grow larger.
A mix of gold and orange from the streetlight
enhances those shadows.
I try to imagine a bird landing in the empty spaces.
A crow or raven.
Four stories and a screen separate me
from the voices below.
I breathe in… out in time with the curtain.
I see my first glimpse of summer.

The Bright Side

The gland in my groin
is swollen.
My stomach burns
with acid.
The arthritis in my foot
is throbbing,
And I am
dizzy again.
Today is payday and I am
still broke.
My job is unfulfilling,
meaningless.
I have no love in my life,
the kind that
makes your heart pound.
Ah… but the sun,
the sun is shining.
Shining in my direction
with warmth
Carried on a breeze
forcing me to be delighted,
dreadfully optimistic.

In the Kitchen

I lay my head
on the counter
shielding my face
with the corner
of my arm.
This sweater is soft
and warm,
the darkness,
welcoming.
My body is weak…
tired.
Random images flicker
in the back
of my brain,
drilling deeper
and deeper,
into the past.
Lifting my head,
the invasive kitchen light
carries me back
to the paper.
I wonder where I can hide
from myself.

Working 9-5

This gray box sits still… motionless.
Starring long enough I can see its breath.
Breath forcing into my lungs that very stillness.
Every direction I turn this gray box slaps my face from its core.
It turns my skin the color of smog with each exhale.
I can no longer hold my breath.

What's the Difference

The same. Everything.
I grow tired of the same everything.
The walk to the subway
What to eat
What to wear
The music I listen to
I grow tired of myself. All of me.
The color of my hair
The sound of my voice
The shape of my body
The thoughts in my head
The things that change,
Ultimately become the same everything.
So why change?
Change your route to work
Change what you eat
Change the color of your hair
Even change the way you think
The things that change
Ultimately become the same everything.