i.

Yesterday
I was arguing with you
about love and falling in and out
of love.
This morning, like sunlight
the golden Buddha rises, laughing. The sound
of laughter like sunlight
Sometimes we laugh together. It's
the best we can do. I don't know
why.

ii.

The seriousness is grave and
thoughts are depressing, a darkness that spreads further
than we realize. It feels like death. Cold.
Bitter. Howling. The mountain we had
climbed so very far away, our breaths turned
into ice.

iii.

There are no bombs in this urban decay.
No missiles launched. The dirty money we
send overseas.
No drones breaking up the sky with a parasitic death.
No hunger this Thanksgiving Day.
Not in Ohio City. Not in the USA.
We live in a country of celebration. The good guys with
the white hats, cowboys and cowgirls all. Grown-ups
serving soup kitchen spoonfuls of cynical compassion.

iv.

The night is never dark for there is starlight. The moon opens wide her grin.
The nameless fall where there is not hope. The hopeless haunt and steal love.
We falter in the guiding light.
We fall and fly with the same broken wings.
Sometimes you are wind, and
sometimes I am sorrow.