Bambi

Bambi, your mother is dead.

The hunter didn't kill her

But the Japanese did.

Crossing the street at Center and 9th,

That little Toyota Camry

Bent her legs up over her head.

She lay there in that man made bed,

Kicking, and twisting the cold sheets.

Until finally she was bled.

Stand Back

They all go, but I came home.

Their encouraging words accompanied by a smile

Turned to pointing fingers and hesitant hellos.

In this mess caused by my premature

Appearance and marred by what ifs,

Lies a crowd of unmet expectations

Here my heart resides but cannot rise.

So stand back a foot or two,

I wouldn't want to stain

Your crisp white shirts

With my tears of

Ineptitude.

A Flake

The January wind cracked
Spreading the crystallized air through
Bare
Deciduous trees and empty playgrounds

High above
Condensed vapors cling
Before they fall
Like a thousand angels
Fighting
An expired war

Far below
Shuddering branches whisper
To a tattooed
Playground tube
Here comes our blanket