Listening to records with my roommate
that summer. We were very young then.
We talked about the girl. The one we met
at the western shore but didn’t get her name.

We watched, furtively, every one
of her eccentric and mystical movements,
and the dueling colors in her eyes.
All of it imperfectly perfect.

Later, while putting on another LP,
he said, “If the way she looked
didn’t take you to church
then God doesn’t need you.”

The scent was tantalizing
it crept up in his nose
The musky odor intriguing
he will follow where it goes

Not the greasy smell of burgers
like many other times
Instead, a heavy warmth
it flooded through his mind

Trotting down the roadway
nails clicking quietly
Anubis left the pavement
through the grass and weeds

Light shone yellow from a cabin
the door opened and it shut
From inside he heard
"Go on, ya little mutt!"

When we were young,
lines had been drawn.
Less a friendly battle
than an all-out war.
It was always them
against us...
me (little Honey-Girl)
and our Dad, against
mom-Norma, Kathryn and Coral,
with black cowboy hats.
Blazing guns drawn
from toy holsters.
Something changed;
shifted...
When She hit him
with a frying pan,
I could see in Her eyes
the hate and anger growing.
I think he saw it too...
I saw the pain in his eyes
That is why he arrived

There’s a universe where I never met you,
Where your hands never ran across my skin.
We never kissed in the backseat of my parents’ car,
Faces flushed from the thrill.

Maybe in this universe,
We were on opposite ends of the earth.
My night was your day.
Where I saw a sunset, you saw a sunrise.
Both skies being painted, but with different brushes.