autumn —
a long glance
at my Hawaiian shirt

end of summer —
sparks from a cigarette
dancing at the curb

I want a fuzzy moon

I want a fuzzy moon —
not picture-postcard perfect,
but wounded, wrapped in gauze,
waxing, waning,
cut into slivers,
like the shadows
that bore you.

Magnet and Steel

yes I know
it’s a corny 70’s cliché of a song.
the lead vocals are flat,
and the background vocals...
well, you know I never liked
that Fleetwood Mac.
but I still hear it in my head,
a perfect soundtrack
for a lazy summer day,
fair-weather clouds
floating across your sunglasses,
a lingering memory
of our first kiss.

if I change

if I change these sheets
I might forget
your cheap perfume,
your penciled eyebrows,
the glare of your lip gloss
in the unrelenting moonlight,
the song you kept singing
when I tried to kiss you,
the curve of your neck -
softer than a sigh.
if I change these sheets
I might forget
the night
I almost
fell in love.