pontificate

we wax philosophical
into the morn
hours slipping by
like silk sheets
on soft skin
and each word
as gentle as a caress
as we talk of nothings
and somethings
pontificating on the improbable
love and law and Saturday morning cartoons
given equal weight
as we explore
how you and I
become an us

rationale

That's enough meow

You yowl excuses
and hide your claws,
but I see my dinner
all over your paws.

It's not as if you
haven't eaten.
You've kibble and wet,
you furry cretin!

Your rationale is that
what's mine's yours,
but some stuff's not
for those on all fours.

Don't look at me with those
big ole sad eyes;
you'd think my shout "NO"
could kill, not chastise.


But I can't stay mad
when you come to snuggle.
Disciplining kittens
is really a struggle.

captious

no good about it,
no good left
just bye
because
you bring out
the worst
the nagging
the noxious
the me I never
wanted to be
captious and cruel
unseemly and ugly
tormenting and tormented
you bait me and I rise
by sinking to your level
I should have jettisoned this
long ago
and so
I go

gourmand

you delicately feast on dismay
suck dry each morsel of misery
picking clean the bones of mortality
leaving no meat on the carcass of me
a fine vintage of my tears to wash it all down
and yet, still ravenous you make stock from my bones
depleting even my marrow
leaving no sustenance
no substance
no suspense
insignificant
my essence
lessens &
ends

thrasonical

Mating Call of a Not-Kardashian


Like Kanye West
you think you're phenomenal
but you're not that great
you're just thrasonical.

Beating your chest
and touting your style;
it's all so hackneyed
and not worth my while.

I prefer the humble
to the humblebragger.
I prefer straightforward
to cloak and dagger.

Your gargantuan head
won't fit through the door.
Just withdraw,
you sad fame-whore.

I choose my partners
for their authenticity
not who'll bring
the most publicity.

Acumen

The acumen
I lack-umen
To crack-umen
Your code.

I ruminate
and stew-minate,
it's true-minate
But, no.

You flabbergast.
I grab-ergast
and stab-ergast
at brilliance.

But miscontrue
all this-construe
it's bliss-construe,
my ignorance.

lampoon

a kiss in the commercial breaks
curled up on covers
Daily Show on the computer
and we, giggling along
as if conspirators
collaborators in the grand circus
for one half hour
in it together
an audience of two
lampooning and lambasting
languidly
in sympathy

jeunesse dorée

Tout le monde

Loves a lover.

So they say.

Une jeune fille

Lost in love

Wearing rose-rose tinted glasses

And wandering 

Paris.

No longer young am I

And my fashion fits my form

Paris a dream of younger days

Golden days past

The jeunesse dorée and I

Carousing

In the 6th arrondissement

Or strolling along 

The banks of the Seine

In sympathy together.

And now I stare out the window

Trapped inside

This aging shell

Sans amour

Toute seule

And reminisce.

histrionic

For us:
no grand gestures
no sweeping scenes
no histrionic declarations
no temper tantrums
no ultimatums
For us:
a quiet smile
a soft touch
a nudge
a wink
a companionable silence

Not every love must sear.
Some simmer.

Not every love must burn.
Some warm.

Not every love must rage.
Some calm.

Every love must find its own way.
For us: this.


A rainy Sunday morning love.
A comforting, cuddling,
pajamas and slippers love.

whammy

"Big money, no whammies!"
the man in the television cheered
one lazy morning
home from school
and I
pressing my luck
against a bout of -itises
a nine year old bundle of blankets
on a couch
with a dog in my lap
and a mother in shouting range
in the exquisite uncomfortable comfort
that only a mild childhood
sick day can bring
drowsing as the Big Board
whirred and dinged
in a chaotic flash of light
upon my closed eyelids
and the smell of soup
wafting in from the kitchen
a promise of lunch on a tray
with the added hope
of a grilled cheese
to join it

vox populi

we long for the world's approval
yet mourn at the singular sound
of a solitary clap
our audience
stares back from the glass
the vox populi
naught but the hoarse whispers
in our head
as we brush our teeth and
steel ourselves for the blank gaze of strangers
as their eyes see only the facade
and not the multitudes within