Our time reminds me/
of growing up, Milwaukee:/
How I learned to think.

Under full moon’s light/
and watchful eye, I wish you/
safe trip: Bon Voyage!

The question which, still,/
hangs like mist before sunrise,/
is: Did you have fun?

If you could/
do that,/
then there would/
be nothing I was better than U at,/
(except being fat)!/
But I’ll b me./
U’ll b U./
We’ll both b unique/
in our follow-thru.

I told my tale/
a hundred times,/
but have always b4 failed/
2 invite rhymes/
about how badly it made me feel./
Texting behind a semi-truck/
I know this much:/
It sux.

All u ever wanted was a friend/
who’d/
listen to you/
and understand./

All I ever wanted was to be near/
and feel and hear/
and touch the magic./
Y is that so tragic?

When Wonder Woman/
shines her indignant glory,/
I can’t gasp: “Sorry!”

A friend’s Blog, EekHarmony, had a statement about romantic efforts by guys: “I humbly submit
http://www.todayandtomorrow.net/2010/04/13/love-injections/ for the pleasure of the many rapier wits on this site. Fabulously cool or frighteningly creepy?” My comment on the blog was:

If I, as
a rapier wit
was criticized
for writing or doing romance (or something like it) …
I’d quit.

Beyond fabulously cool.
Think of the synapses
which have to be connected
to make creative love passes.

So why deign to criticize
Any guy who at least tries?

In National Poetry Month,
I’ll have written 100 rhymes.
And I’ll have thought about you
at least one thousand times.

Around April 1st I was a fool:
Insecure, self-conscious, and whiney.
And when you read my words aloud
it was all you could do to remind me

that I shouldn’t beg, nor complain, nor whine;
refrain from all those Eeyorian traits.
So I did as you suggested, and became confident.
I act as I feel: first rate.

It hasn’t changed my ability to see you,
but at least I’m doing what I need to.