I Love This Girl

I love this girl, the

one who still retains a

glint of Eden in her smile

I love this girl, young

unformed imagination

not yet defiled

I love this girl, frozen

by Kodak on the

frontier of womanhood

I love this girl, eager

curious, hungry womb

simple ideation of good

I love this girl, dreams

still in the unwrapped box

short on wisdom long on hope

I love this girl, this

one in the picture,

where did she go?

end /michael

Soft Distractions

There is a sound imperceptible,

stumbling to the cusp of the ear -

there is a word unsaid, tasted neither

by tongue nor pen. 

Unbidden nudges these, 

sauntering in like some cat

on hushed paws, weaving in then out,

sweetly soft distractions troubling sturdy legs.

These muted messages, purred in isolation

leave hint of neither source nor purpose,

they are just born, then expire. 

Mostly I run away, as primitive man

must have scampered before rolling stones

or gawked with high brow and squat jaw

at crisp lightning spears. 

Sometimes I turn up the music, consume things

or people, then grind time into mortar,

fill each vacant synapse with clatter.

“Hold me, please, but from a distance

and only for today.”

That is all there is. I am suddenly sick

and fear I shall live.

end/Michael