Once, There Was A Girl

Once, there was a girl,
Who was a person, not a picture —
And anywhere she ventured to,
My heart would also go —

But time brought days, and days revealed
The cracks in our foundation:
For whether you “find out” or not,
Eventually, you know —

Like rain upon a lake,
Our passive, commonplace,
And simple failed attempt,
Has vanished, without trace,

Except —

Today I feel the ache
Begin to slowly worsen
When someone who you loved becomes

A picture,

Not a person

How Soon They Forget

A boy and his mother, slowly walking
Kids voices behind them, indistinct
His head down, she reaches out to stroke his hair
He says to her, as they reach the car,
“I’m not good at sports.”

Stopping beside the car,
She looks at him, this little man (he’s become)
And says, “Sure, you are.”

“No, I’m not. I’m the slowest in my class.
I’m not, mom. I’m just not.”

And she knew, she’d always known, the day would come
When all the loving lies that parents tell
About how children can do anything, be anyone,
Would meet reality, that big, blank wall
That tells their child,
“You can go no further.”

And even though he has many, other talents,
She knows how soon he’ll forget this day, and this feeling,

Which is

 
Never

in eight plus lines

o let that one day not go past
that she should once more sorrowed be;
o please, if i could take that weight,
provide to her self-clemency —

i would. the heart that knows no law
believes: it reaches out in pain
to touch in healing whom it loves,
and tries to soothe in all times and

in vain

“commodities”

one of the best restaurants in my town
seats, at most, about twenty-five;
we were there tonight, and this:
my stars! was that food good —

a group of four came in, first time,
and “special ordered” like you do
when ordering commodities :
knowing they wouldn’t like the taste
of food they’d never ever had before.

because, it’s all the same, you see;
when you prejudge, it always saves you
recognizing anything as new –
outside your categories –

like people do with restaurants, and

with other people

My Doctor Says

My doctor says that I should x,
But I am through with x’ing;
For every x, there is a “y” —
The whole thing’s rather vexing.

So many known unknown unknowns;
They vary in the passing —
My doctor says, if I’d be whole
I need to quit half-assing

My mind and body are my own,
Except, they go where he goes;
He looks at wax inside my ears
For reasons only he knows

He’s late, and so I sit and wait;
My schedule rearranging —
My doctor says that I should x,
But “x” keeps fricking
Changing

The Grove

I woke. My people turned to trees.
Then wondered, if I had the chance
Could I, too, with the cold winds learn
  to dance?
 
It is the grove that gives us life.
The sun, the soil that we share,
The tears of those who watch o’erhead,
  their left-by mulch, subconsciously aware —
 
I sleep; my people growing tall.
Now am I just too fast to feel
The slower dance that’s only dreamed,
  but far more
 
  real?