Muck

Whatever could be said

Of the two of them

Would not include

The true essence

Of their bond,

Nor what tore them apart.

The only way to look back

Was with fondness,

Unabashed remorse,

And a profound, incomprehensible yearning

That swept through them

On nights

When the full moon shivered

And the clouds formed tear drops

In the autumn sky.

All they could do was weep,

Or harden their hearts,

Whatever got them through

The dirty muck

Of separation.

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Avocados

I walked to the grocery store the other day 

For a bag of jumbo avocados. 

I took them home and mashed them 

Into guacamole for a birthday party.

I added lime juice,

Red onions – diced,

And tomatoes — the kind that tastes more like a vegetable than a fruit.

I added garlic salt, 

Lemon pepper 

Cayenne,

And sugar.

I tasted it every step of the way. 

I sat down at a table among friends.

We ate the finest homemade macaroni and cheese. 

We slurped up sweet zoodles,

And whole heaps of cheap wine. 

At one point a baby raccoon wandered into the yard.

We told stories on a small pink stage. 

We made s’mores with peanut butter cups. 

We sat until the embers burned 

And the partygoers left. 

We smoked cigarettes and talked about shame 

And the limitations of our power. 

We reconciled differences, 

And laughed with each other.

We looked at stars 

And fathomed at their deaths. 

When the night ended I went inside 

With a ball of fear heavy in my chest. 

I found the lovers hugging in the kitchen. 

I did dishes until the ball disappeared.

The guacamole was gone

But for the hardened, discolored remains 

In the bowl. 

I put my hand under the hot water  

And let it run. 

A voice in my head said something about a global water crisis. 

I turned the faucet off and stood there alone. 

I looked out the window into the yard, 

Where the puppy had dropped another baby raccoon

Dead in the grass.

I thought about masks falling off, 

And the smell of nag champa.

I thought about the desert,

And vision quests, 

And galaxies, 

And love. 

I thought about how some things turn bad 

Faster than avocados 

And how the things worth staying for 

Are often taken for granted. 

I looked at my reflection 

And saw the abandoned house next door. 

I saw the bushes rustle 

And the shadows dance 

I saw among the darkness something like a home. 

I fell asleep at dawn with my headphones in 

And my heart threatening to burst wide open. 

What if…

What if time offered you 

A chance at something new? 

Would you hold on to the past? 

Massage the old wounds 

‘Cause they’re so familiar? 

Or would you allow 

Life to progress as it wants to? 

Would you give yourself 

To the flow of things?

Trust in its movement? 

Do you have any choice anyways

When love bangs on your door?

Your Vision Quest

I hope your vision quest 

Yields fields of Henriettas,

Rivers of clear potable water, 

Cacti itching to share their wit,

Songs on the street corner, 

No scrubs 

Purple Janices in your head space, 

Lingering, transforming 

Breathing in a freedom 

You have never tasted. 

And I hope you see me 

In the red stained hills.

I’ll miss you. 

I know it’s a short while 

But I will. 

And I will miss your laugh,

Calling you Kevin, 

Waking up to your creepy smile 

Beaming at me, 

Drinking beers in the park. 

It’s been a tender month 

Knowing you,

Growing too.

May the trajectory of our lives 

Yield the sweetest fruits

And may we learn together 

The art of loving 

As the ancients intended, 

Allowing it to become 

More impersonal with each passing day 

Until we are certain that love is a faculty 

And not an object to possess. 

I hope you find a place where the stars 

Wrap you like a blanket, 

And the lone wolf sings to the moon 

And your heart makes itself known 

In wondrous colorful ways.

I love you.