The Coin

You scan her mind, don’t mind her mood—
surprised it feels so comfortable.
She’s like a grape–not overweight, but
decorating paradise.
The eyes are deep; the eyes, the eyes
are watching you get down to biz.
That’s what it is, and where it’s been.
You know love takes a bullet and rides again.

If calling it that is not too much;
might just be desire for human touch,
except your heart is always jumping in,
cuz it’s easier when you have a friend;
and when the weekend is like bang bang boogie
intercut with sookie sookie
and some oh nah nah just for good measure,
and her treasure is pleasure shared at your leisure,

then there just ain’t nothing wrong with that,
so you pay for the meal and you put in the chat,
and meet her friend and her mom and dad,
and take allergy pills just to pet her cat–
maybe all night long, unless you like to sleep.
Try a little of each, you both agree.

But you can’t let the grind escape your mind,
cuz if it slips down below half your time,
she’ll recognize you don’t provide.
No Georgie Porgie in her pudding-n-pie.
She knows cake ain’t nothing you can fake,
cuz no one needs a person who’ll take and take.
Earn your pride and she’ll stay by your side.
And if she don’t, then you give her cousin a try.

I’m saying every little thing will be all right
if that’s the vibe. Relax your mind.
Tonight’s just the night for a body delight
in the mooniest light you bought on Amazon prime.
You’re like a couple of rhymes. In your mind, she’s a dime.
You bout to bust from yourself. It’s the best of all times.
Like a coin in the air, you will land in a hand
and then take it from there. So now you understand.






Oh to Choose

You walk in tight,
then see her jeans.
The power of a pretty thought
to put you at ease
is in there, too.
You pass into the back
feeling loose.

The boss will be back soon.
You wish you could approve
of what he has you do.
But you would run the same
kind of crew, wouldn’t you.
What else pays?
Someone has to lose.
But it leaves a taste.




Love Life

My first girlfriend smoked the chronic
and liked sipping on gin and tonic.
She was thick, not ergonomic.
My second girl seemed bionic.

I made the jump like supersonic.
She was honest and was on it.
If you saw us, you would vomit.
Then she was gone like Halley’s comet.

My third girlfriend thought she was smart
but couldn’t understand her heart.
We both just got confused
and started boozing with the blues.

So the next one was just for fun,
but she was trying to hurt everyone.
After that, I needed a vacation
and accidentally dated a nation.

Ever since, I’ve been a single dude—
but I’m interested in someone new.
Ain’t no secret that it’s y-o-u,
so what do you think we should do?

You’re worth it if you work it,
we vibe right; nobody’s perfect.
Surprise me, I’ll try to deserve it.
We’ll be exactly how we prefer it.



The Scene, Its Sadness

You arrived as the scene
arrived. It seemed an eruption
of talent and abandonment:
God’s voice or its answer, youth
roaring from a cloud. The first
to die were the most beautiful,
or ugliest, you couldn’t tell. Just
loved them. The roar
continued, your heart pure
laughter. You kissed where
their tears had left and
wondered, Why so sad?

You left because time is
a wheel; the trees called. There
was a love for you, quiet
and epic. You stayed
awake some nights, everything going
just as unplanned, loving
animals in your lap, and were
so sad and wondered why.

You aged like leaves, like
food, like mountains. You
carry the voice of the cloud and
the quiet epic love and the
mew of child now grown. The
scene is legend. New ones
are born like suckers. All
have left you, or almost; any-
way, they tried. The sky
awaits. You answer it:
So sad because
so beautiful.



The Monster and Us

Just the doubt, you know, the
was it the monster, my monster,
if a monster can belong to anyone
except by eating them. Or was it my
natural self
in all its glory,
in its nothingness,
one of my transparent-translucent shimmery cameos:
spirit over the waters/man on the street?

Because we have married,
become one flesh,
wear the same size.
The monster and I, I mean—
before I knew you, always. Shit,
we dig the same soundtracks,
trade dirty emojis—all of it.
Yet are not the same.

And looking back on you and I,
because I love you now,
because I loved you then and love you
still and only and always will,
the sting of each mistake
trailing smoke behind us
that’s this body burning off–
I don’t know if it’s sad.

Some days I snapped at you and missed.
I have slept on my feet; lain alert.
And nearly, though I pray not yet,
lain waste—yes, me, with no monster to blame.

But there’s treasure in your neck, and I
will find it. There is a fire
in the afterlife, but it is
only a gate.








I Reminisce on O. Avenue

The chicken had burnt, and it had got
quiet in there since the game came on,
so I stepped out to remember her
like I sometimes do, but I
hadn’t passed the opening mood
when a train wreck passed in a vinyl suit,
dictating a letter to her ex.

I sat on the steps, throne
of my side of the duplex.
The smudged air cleared.
The scarred moon shone.
There are no more cigarettes
on earth, but they still own
moments like this.

Back to my memory,
though she’d surely forgotten me.
No, she wasn’t the prettiest or
the wittiest I saw.
When people can be open
but have flavor, is all.






Generosity is the Disposition of the Dwellers of Paradise

And you yawning on another lawn full of waterfalls,
us again where the heart dilates and laughter spills
all over the landscaping, as another dawn escapes
perfect and pink into daylight and our stomachs grumble,
anticipating hunger without fear.

Thinking of certain friends, picturing them here,
settling for retelling certain scenes. Memories
used to waiting on another side of Heaven—
shaded by lazy trees maybe, feet in a lake getting pecked
by little fish, you get the idea—they carry through here
on the breeze, make music like muted tambourines.
Shhh! Weaving in and out of the cries at the gates,
that distant singing.

Let them in, too, with a great creaking and streaming!
Generosity is the disposition of the dwellers of paradise.
All you need is given. All you need is given.