With all of my life’s/
uncertainties, why should I/
add some more to yours?

I would have gone Aloha! with you,/
if you had only asked me to./
The surf I’d have ridden!/
But invite me you didn’t,/
so I remained in the desert, blue.

They ask you to plan/
and dream and scheme, and then they /
leave for Hawaii.

A voice from before/
to flirt with. It’s tempting to /
call and be sordid.

On Facebook, someone asked me: “… how is life treating you with all the big change you are going thorough these days???” My response:

Life is a series/
of experiences too/
awesome for sorrow.

OR

Life is a series/
of experiences filled/
with transforming joy.

“How DO you do that?”/
She asks incredulously./
It’s because of her.

She asked me
to write
what is in
my heart.

Why that organ?
Why not
my lungs?
Pink quivering sacs
that gasp at the site
of her?

Why not my brain?
The repository of ideas
and thoughts of her,
and multi-sylabbic big words that
sometimes I can’t spell?

Why not my loins
that yearn for her
even when she takes
the breath out of my lungs,
the feelings out of my heart,
and the thoughts out of my brain?

They always work.