Morning Portrait

Sunday, May 27th 2012
The day I stop learning
Will be the day I die

Saturday, May 26th, 2012
It’s not like I’ve led an exceptional life, I’ve rolled with the punches.
So I try now to simplify, while people keep giving me things.
I hate things. I want less of them: less clothes to pack and carry around, less bills to pay, less money to spend, less paper to shred.
I want everything I own to fit into a guitar case,
So when I wander my friends are never burdened with the weight I’ve left behind;
I was born knowing how to carry a guitar through a strange city or landscape,
I was born for the next adventure.

Friday, May 25th, 2012

I’ve been waiting for someone like you.

Thursday, May 24th 2012

Ferocious.

Wednesday, May 23rd, 2012 

The kids bring some shape to my day

Make me stop and be grateful for having grown up

And make simple chores exciting

Tuesday, May 22nd, 2012

in a mid morning fantasy I call you on the phone

You explain how the love I felt for you kept us from seeing eye to eye Which I knew all along, I say But deeper than that - further than that, you say you don’t know how to love - I grimace at the thought

Then why did I start dressing like you?

And why did I start using euphemisms like TRU and MASC and TAKE A CAB?

And draw your portrait four times a day?

And why did your beard make me so hot, I’d taste it like ecstasy

And why did I share everything with you so every time we talked there would be no time wasted catching up?

Why did I take a bus - over an hour each way - to close my eyes and dream with you, even when you had to be at work early in the morning? But the most bothersome question - pervasive in fact - is

why did I think it would last? Or that you would hear when my heart was breaking?

Monday, May 21st, 2012

I always run along this particular part of the sidewalk to avoid getting wet

When I meet the right one, I’ll let it soak in.

Sunday, May 20th, 2012

48 hours is almost up; are you happy yet?

Saturday, May 19th, 2012

I’ve been hanging my dreams at the door with my other hats in the morning, it’s an unusual pattern, easy to judge, like houndstooth, and out of style.

I’ve never taken failing for granted.

Hopefully, gratitude will be back in style soon and I’ll fit right in:

So what? I’m single and wear a wedding ring; does that really affect you?

But for now, I’ll stick with the black fedora.

Always struggling to strike a balance, after all.

Friday, May 18th, 2012

A blank mind is worth a thousand words. Or maybe only twelve.

Thursday, May 17th, 2012

A preacher known for his gentleness can be turned, or a violent man with a somber streak; childish fraternity boys, easily turned; also easily turned: men who wear flannel when live in a city.

Wednesday, May 16th, 2012

I learned my mother was made of water

And my father was some sort of samurai

But I, being the lowly servant, was sent to get bread at the bakery before the sun’s rising Still,

jealousy overtook the other peasants, knowing my heritage, and firing shots at me, and my statuesqueness crumbling in places, with a swift swing of her staff, the queen had me repaired -

and all along, it had never been too late to take my seat at the throne of greatness.

Tuesday, May 15th, 2012

A hello and enchante

to perk me up -

he’s Australian, a detail for which I’ve always feigned hatred

(they take so many of our jobs)

But through that book of faces I gather his straight-as-an-arrowness

so grin, and pinch his cheeks (take your pick)

and move on

Monday, May 14th, 2012

I’m so often up before the sun, these pictures are starting to look like evening portraits

Can you tell I’ve been heartbroken? Those dark windows all too tangible

and my guitar in the bed for comfort

These days it’s just get the kids out of bed, get them fed and dressed for school

Do my best to tell them I’m happy

tell them they’re good, even while I discipline them

and never take a moment for granted

The world is ending a few short months, after all

and this evening portrait may be the last

and the dark windows, give them a short while - half an hour maybe, and they’re as bright as can be

Sunday, May 13th, 2012

This dog is a terrible snuggler.