The Goddamned Wart

He sits on the knuckle
of my “fuck you” finger.

I've had him removed
at least 7 times
but he must like me
because he keeps coming back
bigger
and uglier than ever.

They tried cutting him off,
freezing him off,
burning him off with putrid chemicals,

but he returns,
unrepentant
and defiant.

I try not
to obsess over him,
he’s less than
an inch
so I try to keep him
in proper perspective.

If I fight him
and just try
to rip him off with my teeth
I’ll only end up
bloody
and the sonofabitch
will just return again.

Why do you love me so much?

I can almost
forget you’re there
as I gesticulate when I speak
sometimes enamored
with my own brilliance
and I know my listener
is similarly enthralled,

but then I catch a glimpse of you

and I become self-conscious
and my timing gets shot
and my soliloquy dries up
and I rein in my hands.

Even if I wanted to show
my wedding ring
everyone will see
the goddamned wart,

but perhaps that
is his purpose:

to remind me that
while I sometimes
temporarily delude
myself into thinking
that I am perfect
I am not,

but also to remind me
that I don’t have to be perfect
to be lovable to someone

warts and all.

The March of Death

The march of death
plods ahead,
indifferent and dispassionate.

It will see
all our dreams
and wistful hopes for tomorrow
like baby squirrels
in the path of a Humvee
and run them over.

The march of death
is always operating
in the background
never needing a break.

We all know its there
and most refuse to see it
afraid to give it proper credit.

The march of death is there
at the graduation,
in the wedding party,
during the back-arching orgasm.

"Carpe diem"
"live for today"
"tomorrow is promised to no one."

It's easy to repeat such homilies
but unless you can
enjoy the budding rose
or the breeze that bends the palm
or savor the warm quiet explosion
of that first bite of red curried Thai chicken
with your eyes directly fixed on
the march of death,
then you haven't met the challenge
you've chickened out again.

Be consumed
by the defiant dance of life
and if you are seen as
wild-eyed and spastic,
then so be it.

This is your day
use it up now.

Somewhere on this planet
someone's last moment
just happened,

because
the march of death
never takes a day off,

so neither will I.

Rachel (2003)

Rachel
came into my life
with softly suspicious eyes.

Sadly
I was only there
for the last moments
of her girlhood
because
in the blink
of an eye
she stretched out
and her soul
deepened,

and I now see her
curiously
peering into adult
ponds
and sneaking in her
toe,

but just when
I think she is
growing out of
my grasp

she quietly
reverts
temporarily
to the unsure
faun on the frozen lake
and
she curls up on
her
Pop-O

and she silently
drapes herself
over my shoulders
quietly
resting,

knowing that
I don’t require her
to be
sophisticated
trendy or grown-up.

She knows
she can be
quiet and uncertain
or even goofy
and that I will
take care of
things

for now.

The next time I
blink she’ll be
all grown up

too smart and
pretty for her own
good
with a heart
still growing

but I never fear
losing her
for she is deep in
my soul

at 11
she is already
one of the finest
people I will ever
know,

and with that
bright yellow hair
and friendly wide
smile
and soft kind eyes

she will eclipse
even the sun.