Maybe, I did grow up without real worries
nothing like those in the news because if I can
read it in the news it is not the soap opera
genre I probably grew up in, but neither are
soap operas real, or dramas, or stories,
or re-enactments, recollections, or reminiscences…
All figments of my imagination, my expectation,
my realization, a world that cannot worry,
a world built on smiles and “sorry,”
forgiveness and shared life glory,
hard work does pay, every action gives way:
water doesn’t have to be so scarce.
food doesn’t have to be so rich.
currency doesn’t have to be so tied
to borders it can’t defend or even
represent with any consensual accuracy…
what’s in a name anyway?
what’s in an identity that erodes with time
no matter how much you invest?
Maybe, I did grow up without real worries,
nothing like what you read in today’s news.
But the woes I have, the questions I ask,
Maybe, you’ll read it in class some day..
The way my heart beat
with that shot of adrenaline racing
through my core
stirring emotions in my mind,
I knew, instantaneously,
that I loved her more than anything,
wanted her now more than ever,
needed her here and wherever.
Not fight or flight, but fright,
the fear that in another moment,
a fraction of a degree difference,
and the angle would be too small,
and I would miss the chance,
and waste another heartbeat.
Something about the way your write
that makes me tingle,
smile from the inside out,
as a child would at a novel toy,
adventurous, courageous, curious—
words flow into sentences,
and sentences into paragraphs,
paragraphs into arguments,
arguments into grades.
But nothing beats that candid smile,
and your chubby hands,
typing out your seasons.
Sitting under the old palm tree,
I wait for the leaves to fall
and tap me on the head,
it’s not everyday i know
what it means to light up
and smile the world away.
At the very moment I see
and hear your soft laughter—
I understand completely.
7.2.2014 Honey apple chips
Bitter honey apple chips
floating in the green tea medium
plastic cup, straw that’s wide enough for black
pearls. They stuck at the bottom surface.
Bitter reminder. Spiteful.
Inspired by mint chocolate chips