Snow day

So I was right
to those who mocked me
dubbed me Peter Rabbit
shaking fingers at my state of mind
Now look!

The sky is falling!

There is cloud cover everywhere
covering branches
which then snap and fall on people
the ground is covered
deeper than children in some places

We must not have gotten to cloud 9
only the first layers of wretched astral planes
the ones we can easily see
and have passed through in planes

Funny enough it creates turbulence down here too.

Made of cold water, this is no paradise
freezing toes match my disposition
impotent and lame, I succumb to fate
et tu Blue sky? Then fall away

depression

almost good
jack of all trades
second rate
delicious, but mom does it better
bridesmaid next to the maid of honor
lonely masturbation
off color
animated wooden Pinocchio
preseason anything
past due
in retrospect decisions
and then there’s me

Extra avocado and mine was double meat

When the drag queen almost lost control of her testosterone
you said I was the one to blame, even if I was only purchasing sandwiches
I couldn’t help the register being in front of the door
any more than I could I help laughing when the missing link
between RuPaul and Paul Newman found me in the way

But it was not my fault
there off of Christopher Street and Bleecker
the gay zenith of the Eastern Seaboard
and me an oily Guinea boy from Queens
I hadn’t crossed the PATH train tracks yet
and my hot Soppressata was already in trouble

Baby if it wasn’t an overweight troglodyte in lipstick
and maybe if I had done something to insight the
Snap
Snap
Snap
by my face, other than buying us lunch
in the wrong place at the wrong time
then I would accept that you love gay men unconditionally
even holding me at fault for taking people each as individuals

But this time I needed your back
and I’m sure any one of our friends, straight or not
would have been accosted just the same
because no amount of make up
can mend a broken soul

infiltrated

I tried the “guns blazing” approach
and you were ready
behind thick walls and ramparts
my strategy needed revision

Unarmed and carrying only fresh cut blossoms
I returned to your castle doors
begging on bended knee to be let in
and after months of groveling
the draw bridge slowly lowered

It took many more months to gain your trust
afterall, you remembered me
emblazoned upon the federal wanted posters
an unshaven nomadic bandito rogue

Eventually, Winter turned to Spring
and smiles bloomed where icicles once hung
I waited for the fruits of June ripen before I made my move
and by then I was welcomed and invited

Now I sit and sup from the nectar of life
protected myself behind your grand walls
in our own fertile paradise
wallowing in the splendor of your garden

in the stars

distant campfires perforate the night
yellow flickering points
communal centers for congregation
small groups huddled, wondering
What are the others like by the other fires?

connect the dots of these constellations
communities become nations
stories of love and war
made by these seekers of others
forging through the unknown black
to meet neighboring masses around hearths

offering firewood and hot drink from their fire rings
not all are met with welcome
but that is where the stories come from
passed down from generation to generation
a history etched through specks in the night
like Braille for the seeing for all to read

Old wall

You once drew teddy bears, birds and fish
caricatures made by dragging a stick through the sand
you sang us lullabyes in Lithuanian
and made sure we knew we descend from royal blood

you were the load bearing wall holding up the house
keeping security and order with love in our family
then by time’s erroding misfortunes
we boys gre old, as did you
teenage boys bring their troubles
as to lay-offs and life in general

Now mother works two jobs a day
your sons have both been graduated
the gray whiskers on your face
each stand as witnesses to your strife
I hope that we can make you proud

Despite having been defeated early on
you managed to keep a smile on your face
though the old wall is not as sturdy anymore
its story and presence are a lesson and a comfort
There I will hang my pictures of your drawings in the sand