Cushion In Your Eyes

I saw no hint of cushion in your eyes,
Nothing to pillow your hard interest,
So I was at least half-prepared.

Nevertheless, what I did not see was there.
You didn't say anything as I left,
and I did see knowledge in your eyes.
You know I would have turned around,
and you let me go anyway.

The tinted glass of my own dark eyes
Hides gratitude
For what you didn't make me do.

I Have, On Occasion

I have, on occasion, known victory,
The dizzying post-adrenaline ecstasy
Of collapsing, falling out of my head
Into a golden trophy feather bed,

and I have, on many of them, known defeat,
Exhausted rage soured by finality,
The feeling that I have only run out of time,
But, of course, the game wouldn't last my whole life.

Most foreign to the world's American corner,
I know the flavor of sweet, iron surrender,
That baseball bat wrapped in silk,
The better and the worse for being a path I chose myself.
It always tastes like blood in my mouth.

Unscheduled Meeting

You were the unscheduled meeting,
The self-made appointment.
I never set out to network.
I just didn't resist.
I never put you on my bucket list,
Because your friendship isn't
Something I want to die for.

It's something I want to live for.

Toss, Throw Out, Dispose, Discard

We toss, throw out, dispose, discard,
From the Goodwill, to pasture, and to the junkyard.
As a culture, we always march toward obsolete;
As a species, we could wear out society.
Humans would be resilient, as an animal;
The economy, the politics, those are disposable.

Why Poets Have No Control over Fiscal Policies

I have one rule about lending:
I need some,
and you need some.
Beyond that, it's just counting.

When we're still too young for learning,
Television teaches us to count.
The American Dream brands us,
Burns a logo onto our inner skin.

Some have said that I am courageous,
Forging my own dreams into my own tracks.
Others have said that I am kind,
But there is no mutation in my inner facts.
I am merely unbranded.

See My Peers

I can't be who I once was and won't be soon.
I don't see my peers in a college classroom.
It's not that I don't like the people I'm with,
The ones who'll be at reunions I skip.
It's just, I've already moved on in my head.
In the past, I'd cling to my old life, instead,
Sinking my heals in, and drown in the past.
Unlike present or future, it's one time that lasts.

Push Play/Hit Rewind

Our hormones go wild
For the fictional smiles
Of so many characters
Who must be cooler than us.

Or perhaps hormones aren't your style.
Instead, do you dissect
When you obsess?
Are you consumed with the correct?

We assume there is more
To the fictional life
Than is seen by you and I,
But why?

We do the same things over and over.
They do the same things over and over
At least we remember.

At least we get better.