Equations In Momentum

Benefits of a breakup

1. Poetic inspiration

Some never learn.

Christmas eve past found the family on powdered hills,

toboggans dragged behind by stiff fingers.

I was the brave one, the first on my sled. The one who

never held the rope, even when my parents scolded,

told me it’s better to be safe than sorry.

I thought they were silly until I took a tumble,

my face slammed by the packed snow that had

seemed so soft just a moment ago.

I wish I knew how to listen.

Warm Body

Time can never erase the taste, the touch,

the heat of smooth, soft skin. My fingertips

ached to pull him closer. Hands felt my hips,

urging me onward, still forward. So much

depends upon simple contact, and such

sweet, plum caresses from succulent lips.

But this is not quite right. Fantasy rips

and he is not my warmth, the one I clutch.

Not lover, friend, my partner strong and bold,

who brings me to my sweetest, perfect form.

He is a stranger, a poor substitution,

an improper plaster cast, hard and cold.

He could never mold to your humor or charm.

You are gone, he is just an illusion.

Track 3

Low beats pound deep beneath our

                    skin so close under wrinkled sheets.

                    Sweat as heat penetrates our bodies,

pressed against each other, gripping,

                    unrelenting. Keep the rhythm of what

                    you’re giving to me. Please. Release the

hate you make me feel.  Least of all

                    I love you. Most of all I love you.

                    Shades of gray but I’m seeing red.

Your touch is more forgiving than any priest.

Pop the Trunk

My life fits in the trunk of a civic

as i slide down this highway

miles pass with minutes

the separation of past and present

a stark reminder of reality

of time space and missed

opportunities it seems that

plans fall through and who’s

to say what comes but may today

be the way to tomorrow

yesterday says hello to memory

and so it goes as we toast to the old

and bring in the new it’s

true i am scared of the future

and you can’t pretend that you don’t

feel the same we all have our

boxes inside our trunks

no one can comprehend but us

so i drive my civic and

take my life from point a to point b

trying to tell myself that somehow

i’ll see where i’m going.

Deja Vu

I’ll make everything up to you, love.

Hands grasping hers, knee against the steering wheel.

The shadow of the steeple blankets them

through the windshield, crossing his heart.

He is Judas, throwing back the silver.

He is not who he was. Neither is she.

And yet they’ve been here before.

Addiction

Kiss me until it’s cliché and

I’ll tell you I hate you. Drugs

will kill me. Too bad I’m addicted.

You are the lemon in my tea.

Squeeze into my wounds.

The sting makes me love you more.

Our warmth chills me to the bone.

A yarn sweater unraveling

as you pull mine off in the

backseat of your car,

idling in my empty driveway

when I get home.

This end is a beginning

for better and for worse.

Lover, I cannot stand you.

I will run from this bi-polar

love affair. Run into your arms.

Give me a kiss. Push me away.

Even the unending waves must

come and go with the tide,

pulsing steam on frozen windows.