Love

A bunch of random notes
plunked out wildly on the keyboard.
I, IV, V
There's no set pattern,
no sheet music, no chords
no wrong notes.
The music races,
almost impossible to follow
but all you can do is
continue the melody,
as it rises and falls,
and enjoy the feeling of being
lost in the sounds.

Living Life on the Edge (Press)

The small shiny silver blades

carry us across the ice.

With each powerful stroke,

our blades carry us farther

from the surrounding wall

and closer to each other.

Days and memories pour

from us, laughing, sharing

as our legs push to

skim the ice faster.

Holidays, parties and huge

history exams are remembered

and then promptly forgotten

as other, deeper, less remembered

days and times trickle in:

the day I got up to speak in Spanish and

pronounced half the words wrong, the day

spent basking in the sun as we were serenaded

by the football and soccer games,

ongoing games where the score doesn't

mean much and the teams never

change, the day, years ago, we

crowded in the bathroom at

school amongst the smells of

costly perfumes and the sweat of

nervous girls preparing for their first dance.

These thoughts, memories really,

propel us around the rink

until at last we step off

of the rough, torn up ice and

back into present times once again.

Summer (Address)

Address: I feel like the ending of this poem is off-topic. Do you agree? Is it distracting? Should I change it, or leave it how it is?

A warm, balmy day.

School's out, and I wander

aimlessly

about the town.

A few cool breezes

pass me by as I

amble slowly with

no particular destination.

I smell spicy spaghetti sauce

mixed with

oily french fries and

hot green chili,

drifting in the wind.

Strangers pass me

and I gaze at their

faces with empty eyes.

I'm walking to nowhere

down the two-laned road,

not really noticing where I am.

I hear voices shouting,

Spanish, English, a mix of both.

Time passes slowly,

then faster, as the scents

change and I stop walking

as I look out across

the street at the stoplights

blinking yellow, green and red

as lines of cars, gleaming

in the sunlight

stop

and then start again.

The crosswalk light flashes

"WALK"

and I cross the street to my house,

run up the slightly crooked front steps and

shut the heavy wooden door against the

afternoon heat.