Track 3

Winter

A special snowflake disappears on warm skin

just like all the others.

Frost laden bark skeletons scar the sky,

casting shadows in the sub-zero sun

shining on the deathly pallor coating the ground.

The branches look so alone

without leaves to bridge the gaps.

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

There is no desire left to melt this frozen world.

Passing By

His heart took a swan dive,

spelunking into his stomach with

a sickening splash. He could see

the hate in her eyes,

the hurt he’d brought her.

He had to look away.

He sees his stark reflection in the

glass of the door before it

slides silently away, welcoming him

into the forgiving warmth of the store,

warmth he knows he doesn’t deserve.

One Speck Spoils the Glass

Awake in a photo. Black and white, head hurts too much for color. Loose black slacks drape over a barely there dress on the floor. Milk on the nightstand in front of a background of wood. My hands rest on my stomach. Is milk on my skin? Man’s milk, perhaps. I want milk. What did I do last night? Rolling over, see what I did. He has a stressed smile, spindly at the ends, emblazoned with a promise. Don’t think I want what he’s offering. A sour taste coats my mouth. Turn over, drink the milk. If only the creamy froth could make my insides in its image. The word “milk” crowns everything. I too would like to be pure white.

Track 2

I said I never want to see you again

(with anyone but me). The jazz

from the record player challenges

you to leave. Your words break my

bones (but your kisses are a splint).

Believe me, I can live without you

(if I’m already dead). I swear I’ll

go on if you leave (everyone else

behind). Push and sway in time,

give away your heart (it’s mine).

Forgive and forget is so cliché.

I say never give away the past.

Pop the Trunk

My life fits in the trunk of a civic

as i slide down this highway

miles pass with minutes

the separation of past and present

a stark reminder of reality

of time space and missed

opportunities it seems that

plans fall through and who’s

to say what comes but may today

be the way to tomorrow

yesterday says hello to memory

and so it goes as we toast to the old

and bring in the new it’s

true i am scared of the future

and you can’t pretend that you don’t

feel the same we all have our

boxes inside our trunks

no one can comprehend but us

so i drive my civic and

take my life from point a to point b

trying to tell myself that somehow

i’ll see where i’m going.

Gas Prices Skyrocket

He bluffed, “It’s the cheapest you’ll find a vintage sports car.”

She huffed, “It looks rather new for a vintage sports car.”

Love for the ages: soft, steady, slow, and sweet, or a

flame: fast, beautiful, and deadly, like a vintage sports car.

Pulling off her shirt she felt revealed, reviled, repulsive,

telling herself it’s not trashy if you do it in a vintage sports car.

Cherry red, blood red, red wood. Scattered under moonlight.

On the accident report they called it a vintage sports car.

Heaven forbid honesty! Hide your feelings, your secrets,

undercover. Like in the driveway, a vintage sports car.

Status symbols: a Rolex watch, a million bucks, a

yacht in the bay. Trade your wife for a vintage sports car.

The past thrown away, left to rot and not be remembered.

Left to decompose in a junkyard next to a vintage sports car.

Lost, lonely, loveless? Ditch the club, forget online dating.

One thing that can never leave you: A vintage sports car.

To escape your problems you must run far away.

My suggestion? Zero to sixty in a vintage sports car.

A gold-digging robbery! Get away with his money, his heart,

a license plate reading RAY-RAY on a vintage sports car.

Sunset Over Atlantic

The tan line on my ring finger has faded,

just another reminder of the time we’ve lost

since that day at the beach when my ring

washed away with the tide. We couldn’t afford

to replace it. Maybe I should have taken that as

a sign.

Addiction

Kiss me until it’s cliché and

I’ll tell you I hate you. Drugs

will kill me. Too bad I’m addicted.

You are the lemon in my tea.

Squeeze into my wounds.

The sting makes me love you more.

Our warmth chills me to the bone.

A yarn sweater unraveling

as you pull mine off in the

backseat of your car,

idling in my empty driveway

when I get home.

This end is a beginning

for better and for worse.

Lover, I cannot stand you.

I will run from this bi-polar

love affair. Run into your arms.

Give me a kiss. Push me away.

Even the unending waves must

come and go with the tide,

pulsing steam on frozen windows.

T-Minus 21

Twenty-one guns in a sudden burst

he is number six and comes with

a false sense of security and unexpected

endings at no extra cost

run through the flowers to fall off the cliff

  Twenty past birth and settling too young

he is number five and he is easy he is

there he is sweet and he is kind

but he is not wanted

there is no hurt when the time runs out

  Nineteen and accelerating fast

he is number four and he is nothing she

has known before or ever expected

it’s only perfect to a point

so the crash and burn is all the harder

  Eighteen is self-centered and self-loathing

he is number three and he makes her feel

good but he is nothing that she wants

and little that she needs

it breaks her heart to crush his devotion

  Seventeen owns naivete in every color

he is number two and he takes the pale pink

of unearned trust and stains it dark red

with sudden abandonment

it is her first lesson in one-sided love

  Sixteen sweet doesn’t know any better

he is number one and he is her sun

and she is burned by his brilliance

brightness masking flaws

he is the high that will always be chased

  Fifteen to One and more lifetime lived

than the rest combined but somehow less

if they knew what was coming

Perhaps

they wouldn’t have rushed.