You text me photos./
I stare and can’t stop myself./
Power is draining.

Talk would be nice,/
but It’s a vice/
of mine,/
or i find/
it has been twice.

Did another year/
increase your wisdom, so that/
you want to see me?

Welcome Back to Feeling Town.
I had a feeling you were down.
But I kept on trying;
(it was that or start dying,)
and I hoped you’d want me around.

LA LA: The feeling/
one gets when they visit So/
Cal and see the beach.

Or

The feeling you get/
when you know someone wants to/
merely embrace you.

OR

I could tell you more/
about that feeling, but it/
would send you reeling.

She sends me to the moon,
to Lagoon,
to the roller coaster
where I, upholstered,
freely ride.

And as I glide
through my own choice,
from deep inside
my mind, there’s a voice:
“You can get off the amusement
ride at any time!
You’ve already spent
your dime.”

And I reason to myself:
“How sublime
to put my feelings on the shelf
and exit the ride in mid-drop,
as the coaster hurdles from 100 feet up!”
I think not.

As a gardener/
I pick plants to grow their fruits./
My skills picked you, too.

We can find reasons./
We can hate, revile, mistrust./
We can enjoy. Choose.

Drive time/
was mine./
Daily I’d find/
out her mind./

She’d miss me,/
and insist we/
not balk,/
but talk./

Time can yet b/
shared/with me./
Calls r not seen./
Who’s green?