Is she
Well off
Upper middle class
Lower upper class
No, is she really…

Her hair is
Dark auburn
Well coiffed

Her heart is
Filled with longing
Bursting with…

Her dress is
Au courant
High couture
Haute culture
Sienna, no
Brick tan

Her face is
Ship launching
Heart breaking…
Fresh as a peach
Unfathomable but
Plain lovely

It’s her subway stop
Some day we must meet

Rules for Sex in Space


Never let gravity get you down
In heaven as on earth
Position may provide power, but do not trust thrust

Velcro repeatedly and without restraint
Always possess a firm foundation
Third parties bring stability but add complications

Touch means push away
Weight is no longer fate, but mass lasts
Hormones lose heat in the cold of space

As pooling erects problems, privacy turns priority
Zero G is not easy or free: check simulations first
Make darkness visible; radiation creates mutations

Have fun, just never in full sun.

Two Halves


Love is built like lock to key
Two souls cut to fit and join
I learned self-surgery
Did everything you needed
Gave you what I wanted

Yet your loneliness
Surpassed the loveliness
Carved new sharp edges
Sprang the lock

Our cut heart won’t kill us both
Just yours mine
I promise to die politely

It’s odd, you and I
Almost made a whole soul



The day you were not there
I came to visit
A grey, damp morning you missed
My unannounced arrival

Lunch was as usual at noon
You did not show
I asked how you were
You did not answer
Peevishly I left the cafe
Waiting for your angry replies

We both should be here
But absence is the message
We deliver regularly
To the wrong address
If the body is a battleground
Were we generals or privates?

You learn from despair as it ages
More from youth once it’s past
What you wanted, I wanted
Is now out of reach

I’m still expecting you
When will you not come?

The Right Color of Eyes


Her eyes are blue, she says
My eyes see green edged in emerald
Flickers of anger her tongue conceals
Her eyes
Different hues to different minds

She certainly saw love differently
An investment – joint earnings and coupled careers
Treated firmly like furniture and funerals
Death did not scare her
Part of a doctor’s job
Another opportunity to excel and
She did

Dutiful at work and hoarding secrets
Each cultivated with silent pride
If more came from her loving agreement
Just added interest on invested capital

She knew where she wanted to go
You might have your own notions yet
Would slowly watch
Every other path block up
You should see her way was right in the end
Of that she was sure

My position did not quite fit the plan
I wanted warmth, feelings acknowledged if
Not entirely understood
Sharing a sadness about life’s why and how
Not just tastes, career clocks, steady stocks
Yet we looked right, she said
Just right

Despite my folly she performed ably
Married another who fit her plan better
Climbing rungs to an admirable schedule
Doing good work damn well

Yet when you disagree on the color of eyes
They can flash signals
You may never read right

We Are Ridiculous



You take my hand in a cold white bed
Mouth mirrors mouth
My lungs fill with your breath
I laugh
You hurl

We are ridiculous
Even with the Eros thing
Intimacy a long haul horror show
Belching, sniffling, secreting
The closer we get the bigger the pores
Each night visit our skin’s lunar surface
Ragged blood lips, splotchy eyes
The failings and failures to come

We accept that we are ridiculous
The whole foolish shooting match
Perhaps that’s the beginning of love
Or just the illusion of safety
Either way I hope it’s enough