Rorschach and Juliet

I doubt that I remember the first time
I saw a beautiful face,
But I think I remember the first time
I saw a face as beautiful.
I wondered when I would be old enough
To date a woman like that.
To this day, when I see a beautiful face
It causes me to question.
I wonder what her favorite subject
In school used to be,
Or whether she would still have children
If she knew she had a choice,
Or if she could suggest a better way to write
Than starting with "I remember,"
Or whether she knows what I do
On the internet,
and whether my motorcycle is cursed,
So I will never find an empty road.

#WeCanLandOnACometButICant

I remember when there were stars.
I remember looking at them,
and then being too busy.
I remember looking for them,
and seeing only an aqueous blur.
I think I could see them now,
If I could remember to look—
If I could remember to stay still
To do anything but gaze into your eyes
and wonder why I can't find what I lost,
Or why we haven't replaced it,
Or how creepy I must be coming off right now.
I have found no answers there,
Only more difficult questions,
The kind I can never seem to ask aloud.
We can land on a comet,
But I can't even land on my feet,
Falling into chaos
and a deep blue sea
Teeming with life
Not my own.

Lies My Devices Told Me, Pt. 2

My phone says I am out of minutes.

Sounds ominous,

But what it thinks it means

Is that I can no longer talk to people,

and a mere cover story that is

For the bigger lie, the salesmanship,

the fortune-seeking foray into flattery—

Implying that I know how to talk to people

In the first place.

Lies My Devices Told Me, Pt. 1

The camera always lies.

It doesn't add ten pounds,

Or affix funny filters.

Photoshop is a mere fib

Next to the lies of the lens,

Which says that you are visible,

That it is even possible

To see or look at people.

You can only see a body.

You can only know a person,

Or maybe, if you're lucky,

You can understand.

Glass Half Broken

If wishes and hopes
Were bishops and popes,
We'd be knee-deep in goop,
With more chiefs than soup—
An ill-starred cohort.
Life's more brutish and short
and less Harry Potter.
(I've known chasers and beaters.)
I don't use fractions on water,
Just milliliters.

Give the First Try Nine Lives

There's not a single thing I've done,
Or seen, or heard, or said
That sets me above what anyone
Could manage before bed.
I don't just rise.  I rise and fall,
Not the man I want to be.
I'm not sure I'm a man at all,
But I'd need a lobotomy
To replace my brain with another,
Start feeling again, even cry
Before I sought out a wannabe mother
and gave in to the old second try.

It Isn't You [It Is You (It Isn't Just You)]

You're not “someone I can talk to.” I'm just talking.

I never did learn shame, discretion, or inhibition.

And sure, I'm comfortable enough around you to nap,

But that doesn't mean a thing; I didn't sleep in your lap.

I trust my sleeping safety to my girth and my wheeze,

and all those times I shook Death's hand at cocktail parties.

I did wake up and have to ask what time it is,

But never know; I usually wake up and think that I'm still a kid.

In short, don't go reading into anything I do.

It isn't you. It is you. It isn't just you.

To a Girl at Safeway, Whose Time I Wasted

I have misread, miss-stepped, and misquoted.
My demons have grown scratchy-throated
From the smoke I've been blowing 'bout being improved,
But I oft' spend the half-minute that I need to choose
You as the best of ten years of mistakes.
It was honestly made, with the lowest of stakes.
No one was left hurt when all was done...

...and it really did seem like you'd be fun.