Writing

December already?

That's what everyone else says.

People ask us at the end 

of every year

to reflect on these last twelve months

that have changed us.

And I honestly never know

“Is that what you’re wearing”

She says

Not as a question

But a judgment

A cold declaration

That I’m doing something wrong

Many years have passed 

Wearing away at my soul

Yet I will never forget

Those 2020 backyard nights we spent 

Collecting acorns and playing tag under sunset skies

Tonight, stars are falling,

Over Chicago, New England, Texas,

From angry east to angry west,

Dark cars: hearses that we don't call hearses

Roll silently towards lively, warm houses,

Fire is like a person. You can change how it looks but it's still the same. 

You can color your hair, pierce your ears or change your clothes, but you're still the same person.

what do the wings write, light in the sky

tales told to the whistling, empty guy

stellar moon that turns eyes hibiscus pink

darling dark hair, shining star, who slips his hand away in the morning