Carpe Diem, Catch and Release

Carpe diem,

and then
let it go.

Often I’ll replay
the most recent interaction
I had with anyone
and judge it
like a glass of wine.

Sometimes I’m satisfied
with its perfection, it’s profundity,
but often I wish
it had gone better.

This dissatisfaction
keeps me alive,
digging deeper into this
mucky human soil
to find hidden treasures
and cherish them,
but not
to possess them,

which is,
of course,
the whole point
of the lesson.

A Predictable Terror

It works a predictable terror

every time I see it

and I know all the behind the scenes

of how George Romero made it

how they couldn’t afford

real paid actors

or even color film stock

and it’s in the public domain

and you can download free copies

from archive.com

but something about those zombies

plodding forward

relentless

unassailable

irrational

inevitable

busting through that the walls

and doors of that rickety old house

headed for the cellar

that doomed cul-de-sac,

where everyone is hiding…

I never watch it

with all the lights

turned

off.

Grandpa Dracula

He used to be sexy

with his slim figure and

sharpened fangs.

His cool demeanor

and sartorial elegance

mesmerized women

into breathlessly

offering up their necks

as prelude to

their pulsating

sweet

essence.

Flowers with

thick eyelashes

shiny red lips

and pendulous curves

would avoid his gaze

for fear they’d be tempted

past the point

of redemption.

But now,

he’s Grandpa Dracula,

fat, toothless

and domesticated.

They look

straight into his eyes,

and chat with him easily,

and it is

worse

than being invisible:

he is deemed

cute and harmless.

The eternal life

he coveted,

remains forever elusive,

as he replays his memories,

which mock him

like an endless stream

of Viagra commercials.

Between Teal and the Blues

The name

Sensory Processing Disorder

doesn’t do justice

to the confusion

disorganization and

chaos inside her.

Her problems are so subtle

that describing them

sounds like I am grasping at

a ghost,

a fantasy diagnosis

that doesn’t really exist.

I’m sure some see her

as a demon

as a freak

as a misfit.

If she could perceive

the world clearly

then she would see

there is more to the world

than rules and unsolvable puzzles,

and

if the world could

perceive her clearly

then they would see

there is more to her

than anger and misery.

How do you describe

to a colorblind person

the difference in hue

between teal and the blues?

October in Southern California

In So Cal it’s always summer

until the second weekend in October

when everyone stops wearing cutoffs

and the beaches get emptier.

The same violent Santa Ana winds

that sweep brushfires through

the canyons

also blows the summer smog away.

The leaves find their way

off the branch

exploding in vibrant splashes

of orange, umber and ochre.

Walgreens becomes schizophrenic

as nativity scenes bump up against

displays of Zombie makeup

and costumes.

Everything slows down,

it gets darker faster

and the kids come inside earlier.

The night air

brisk and frisky

brings forth sweaters and jackets

and memories of new love,

smelling her perfume

in the early evening sky,

and we still sleep

with the windows open

but now it’s cold enough to

curl up together,

lost in the warm

narcotic sweetness.