Does it matter?
Does it Matter?
It’s like a taco truck lunch,
a compartmentalization of life
until what you do
is another burrito
sold from the menu.
I’m hungry for more
like before
when an a la carte order
was looked upon fondly
by the powerful view.
Three palm trees on this street
remind me of the trinity,
two criminals and Jesus
hanging,
one of them could’ve been you,
Father, Son, and my ghost;
how about a toast
to the last time
I said I loved you
the most.
I remember one time
you told me
that there was no such thing
as a happy writer,
but two feet in
the water feels fine
and I know now
what I didn't realize then,
while you remained the same
I’ve been working on my game
and when this scene is over
I’ll have written Act II
and it’s in III
that I’m born again.
It takes two to tango,
but I feel like I haven’t gotten my chance
at this dance;
trying to rhyme
by observing my mind
makes me want to rewind
to the very time
I placed the idea
of buying a ring
on the line.
I proposed,
“Marry me, DESTINY.”
Clearing dishes
from the sink
do you ever think
what became of me
to realize I
spend my day
writing poetry?
Concept versus theme,
the truth being
creation into a commodity means
I have to make something
that you actually need;
money the result of more
than greed,
an exchange of value
from you to me
realizing our shared reality.
Don’t ask, don’t tell,
if Bert and Ernie were gay
childhood would’ve been the same,
I had a headache
thinking those in the nuance
were to blame,
trying to explain
the loneliness away
my thoughts came to
a neighbor getting his morning paper,
exhaling he steps back through,
says good morning to the wife
and closes the door.