Today, on your yellow bike, 
(the one that refuses to turn exactly left) 
you passed the ocean.

It was light blue
and foaming at the edges 
and reminded you of the days
on the ocean with the summer friend
you had made when
you were younger.

He was quiet and smiled a lot.

You pulled over and examined the waves
cresting
and remembered how he
had cried
when you left.

You remembered how many stories
he held inside of him.

Those stories were more of him
than you ever had before.

You remembered the day in the rowboat
with soggy sandwiches and rain. 

And all that lost laughter.

It made you smile again. 

Where was he now?
Did he remember you?
Did you even remember him? 


 

 

 

It’s a smell that
comes just before a rain

One because there are always more

Sunshine for times
when honey drops from fingers
and soapy feet
are a must before bed

She’s small and likes to be held 
and tickled (occasionally)

She’s simple and sweet 
and reminds you
of the time you made pancakes at midnight
just to see what happened before
sizzling smelled so good

Dripping, sticky fingers
remind you of the time the ocean
almost ate you

And the ice cream stand
on the corner of Magnolia and Silver street 
had a sign out front
that tells you to go swimming
and forget your towel

If you run, freezing into salty depths
you’ll remember
you were never taught that rivers
are safer than oceans will ever be

Occasionally I refuse to be frightened
by beautiful forces 

It’s creative, you think,
the way ocean refuses
to be photographed.

Even more creative 
with the stars.

It’s like trying to capture
the sky in a jar. 

Like trying to drink
sunlight from a cup. 

You know now you never can
and long to anyways. 


 

You like the way he wakes up.

Not at all 
and all at once.

bolt upright 
down the stairs 
out the door

Stars are like Suns 
when they fall to Earth.

He collides
and slips back to sleep.  



 

 

sometimes we all take  
more than we can give
 
we long for rains
that never fall
 
we catch wishes 
that were never made
 
we taste the soil 
before it blows away
 
it’s a full moon tonight
 
and i’ll finally breathe the stars 
 
maybe next time
you’ll catch me 
 

 

 

I am small. 

Every night when the moon
makes its presence in the dark sky
I am reminded of something
larger
than me.

I like the feeling of escape. 
Falling out of normal.

It makes me nervous to explode into 
something so large

even the seas
don’t know how it started.
The need to escape. 

I left the other day.

Flew above the moon.

But I'm not that important 
and you're much too used to leaving what you love. 

I think you admire the moon. 
I think you long to touch it. 

going   leaving 

gone



I never touch you.

I'm too afraid of fire. 


 

It’s numbing to see so many people 
dead


so many
so many
so many

This Keeps Happening. 

It keeps happening
and still people tell me
“It’s rare,
it won’t happen to you,
you shouldn’t be scared”

no, I should be.

i should be scared
for my future.

i should be scared
for all of those poeple
who don’t have one anymore.

i should be scared 
of taking life for granted. 

i should be scared
of letting go.

i should be scared 
to forget.

And yet. 
When I see the breaking news
in my inbox on Friday 
all I think is: 
“Another?!”