Of all the words in infinity
there is but one that’s just right
Like reaching into the darkened skies
to pluck a star so bright
I pull it down and plug it in
to complete the string
You are the exacting gem I want
amongst the everything
vibrations
vibrations
in perfect sync
with the quiver
of my cells
every pluck
my heart swells
guitars, harps,
ukes, violins
banjos, cellos,
mandolins
they all sing
with their entrancing strings
matching the pulse in me
trembling
harmony
Fair-weather Friend
My joy is gone
with the sun
but was that me at all?
My woeful winter
could be my center
My fair-weather friend,
leads me on.
All the fancies and the foils
those sweltering nights encourage
leave me when frost bites hard.
The lump that’s left
is the real me, I guess
That boisterous party girl
is a facade
built by summer’s
glimmer-prismic holographs.
She cares not
about the worries
in my frigid core,
that fair-weather friend,
damned doppelganger.
Reports say she’s South,
basking in radiance
while I am here
crawling through fog
and puddles
of quiet sorrow.
I know she returns
because I give her substance,
soul;
and I tolerate her
so I can be included
in the follies of
unfledged communes.
So pathetic and dismal am I
that half of me leaves
for half of the year.
