Unemployment, Divorce & Hubris

His marriage wasn’t what he was about.

When she left him, he didn’t care too much:
His marriage wasn’t what he was about.
Instead, there was his working life. And such
Was all the weight he placed there, beyond doubt.

But then he got laid off out of the blue,
And found himself detached, alone, uncheered:
For suddenly, the purpose that he knew
And lived for all his life – had disappeared.

And he thought back to her, not for her faults,
But for the way he looked at her lost state;
He’d called her lazy, treating wounds with salts —
Not knowing how Injustice leads to Fate.

What he placed in the oven, then, to bake?
A meal of which he’s now must needs partake

Just Another, Love

Allow me to enumerate
Your virtues this December:
You’re better than those other girls
Whose names I can’t remember

You’re better than all Hollywood
For you are far less fakey,
Although, like California, you
Can make my whole ground quakey

You’re smarter than you’re beautiful:
But somehow, yet, I’ve found
It’s also a true statement said
The other way around

You’re strong and unpredictable,
You’re tender and yet wise;
There is a morning in your voice
And sunset in your eyes

I know I write these poems oft,
It’s just another, love —
But there was no one then, or since,
I’d rather scribble of —

For you’re the sun, the moon, the stars,
The sunshine and the rain,
And I am sorry I forgot
To put trash out


Everyday Joys: My Wife

She makes me laugh (I love to laugh)
She makes me think (I need to think)
She makes happy (most the time)
Although, I can’t predict her —

It’s love (and love’s most everything)
And joy (and that is hard to find)
Though she says ’twas the OTHER way,
I’m very glad I picked her

Filling Station

A woman and her husband
Stopped at this place

She, eight months with child
He, thinking about walking out
And the drive had been a tense one
Old wounds reopened
Fresh hurts on display

And an old couple was there
At the same time
Laughing while they pumped gas
They asked her when the baby was due

She said, “One month.”

The old man asked her husband
“Are you excited?”
“Nervous,” was the reply

“Don’t be. Just remember:
Loving someone
Who loves you back
Is the greatest thing in the world.
And your child
Will love you back.”

Forty-eight years later
The woman is no longer young
She stands at this abandoned place
Her young granddaughter in tow.
“What is this place?” the little girl asks

This place?
This is where your grandaddy and I

Decided to stay in love


(“Filling Station” – 8-15-2014)

outlined in grace

outlined in grace,
a silhouette against the city’s light,
she works into the night,
as silently upon the hotel bed,
he sits and studies her

enshrined in memory,
the day of promises,
and night of many, much and after much,
an age of opulence,
and giving when that all was natural

but after years,
what effortless once was is concentrated work,
and he forgets the high unlikelihood
that she’d be here with him,
after so many things and years,
five feet away, so beautiful,
outlined in grace

For Her —

Through golden lands I drove today
For mile on mile, field on field —
I stopped to watch the long grain sway:
An ample sort of yield —

And I remembered you and me
On our way up to Williamsburg:
We’d stop wherever, randomly,
Just as we felt the urge —

And I could see that afternoon,
The way you looked that golden day,
For we were on our honeymoon,
And cared not where we’d stop or stay,

For we were two, and two’s enough.
At least enough, for trips like that,
Where shine’s the thing, and not the scuff,
And being there is where it’s at.

But then I blinked again, and knew
That I was here, and you back home;
That we are tired now, and do
More things on plan, and less on roam,

But love, there’s one thing that I know:
That while I’m earth, and you are fire,
We still have places, yet, to go,
And you are, as you were,
My one