Little things.

Some days

it feels

like

nobody cares

and then

out of nowhere

a

friend

gifts you

a space pen,

and, “yes Jerry,”

it writes upside down.

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Vital Weeds.

When you start to look

into other people’s lives

you start to see

whose lives are worth

looking into, and sort of

weed out those

you dabbled in, that turned out

to be nothing more

than forgettable,

nothing more than

vital weeds.

Not so fiction.

Not

every

person

is meant

to

stay

in your life

forever,

but

that doesn’t mean

you can’t tell

their

story,

it doesn’t mean

they’re

not

a part of yours,

so be a dear

and change a name or two,

just don’t

spoil

the end —

they’ll know if you do.

This is me trying to be o.k.

I am trying to be o.k.

Thinking about young souls who’ve past.

Contemplating Cancer’s reasons.

Sometimes hearts just stop.

This is me, trying to be o.k.

Not that young anymore.

Grey hair no longer a curse,

but more of a blessing – there is beauty in age.

For now, I am o.k.

As for tomorrow, history

seems to shrug it’s shoulders

leaving me out of the loop.

And I’m o.k. with that.

This is me trying to be o.k.

 

 

The trouble with book lovers.

Two book lovers
sit together
on the subway
reading
alone.

Do they
have
anything
much to say
to one another?

Or
is
the story
they’re reading
better?

Probably not.