Time

Do you, as I, daily perform an unending juggling act with the hours, grasping at fleeting minutes, feeling, by sundown, famished for time?

Who of us doesn’t wish to artfully turn the wretched clock into origami art that would sit silent and still on the wall and evidence beauty instead of lack?

Were it possible, I would wave my surely magic arms, and weave into the moments a stop gate, then take eternity to tell you, thank you, you were right, and I love you.

Fireworks, Baby

Count yourself among the many
Who do not care to consider my midnight musings of any value
To know my heart-wrenching pleas for your return
Sent unrequited out

But what you need know
My last diary entry was a mid-summer date
Immediately before the fireworks, but after my hope expired
Your birthday, baby

New Native

The Canarsee, then the Dutch
The English, then the Continentals
The Liberty Enlightening, then Her

1919’s newest native
Born to hope-filled immigrants
First-born Grecian blood

Taught how souls are one with land
Detest the thievery, love the thief
Gave me new-world Explorer’s eyes

Revolutionized, thus, Liberated me
My hair flowing out her crown
I call her fire my hometown

Manhattan girl, my whole world
‘Twas my Thanksgiving to be hers
Bid me to breathe free

Original Thought Credit: “The New Colossus,” Emma Lazarus

Over

There was that night
An only slightly dimmed light

There was that song I sang to you –I believe you sang back– about being crazy ‘ bout you
An ode I’m inclined to replay over and over and over in my mind, in hopes that I’d grow tired

There was that us celebrating love
An honest Thanksgiving

Gen Xers

Nice boy
Back in school, we’d ride bikes
Just not together

Parallel lines, at the same time
One of us too, too shy
Lone wolves, we

Both damn quick
With pencil and paper, too
Hearts raced, true love confessed

Notes never delivered
Our legs unable to take the leap
Fast-forward decades later

And analog becomes digital
I knew not your name until now:
Fragile

No Gown

Are we okay with being alone
With no other soul to hold the ladder
To stand by us, tasting, in the test-kitchen that is life

Allowing, for once, after all the illusion
Reality
When we release our grasp and find no one but ourselves

Need we ask why
What mythical stealth robbed us here
Who climbed into this tower, cat-like, to gleefully take

What will we make of it
This secondhand plan that has nothing to do with the tales we were told
A finer legacy, perhaps