How I Met Your Mother

When we were together, it was your thing
When we are not together, it is my thing;

I never saw it as part of my idea (of you)
Maybe you saw me as part of the idea (of it);

Some people live their lives in a fairytale
Other people live their lives in a sitcom;

Then there are some
Who don’t live at all.

 

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Small Boys with Big Dreams

I remember when I was a little boy I used to

Have a friend who wanted
To go to Yale to read law;

Another friend who wanted
To drive a manual sports car;

The former is now doing
Something else back home;

The latter is now doing
Nothing to get his driving license;

I spoke to them recently:
They don’t even remember these things.

I guess
People grow up,
Dreams grow old,

Yet forever in time we once were
Small boys with big dreams.

(Happy Birthday Sean.)

Capped R8

It was a quiet ride barred
from the constant odd hum the Japanese engine made.

I decided to break the ice and asked him if
the car was nice to drive and he told me it depended on
how I defined nice. Back to silence it was,
the night was still young and our hearts were still hungry.

An R8 whizzed by. We caught up and landed beside. A young boy in a cap.
My traveling companion might have thought, nice car.
I was thinking, where did he get the money from?

We were both young men trying to survive in a world inside our Grab car
and a world outside. Maybe we wished we were in the R8, or maybe not.
Must have been his parent’s car or money. That is far from satisfying for us.

Soon the journey came to an end. I took the lift up,
and he took another trip out.

The night was still young and our hearts were still hungry.

Making Tiles With Scrambled Eggs

the night after our first fight you ran
away. from me and from your abandoned necklace
i saw our love fade away into the break of day,
mirroring the shattered fragments of my

life (and heart) as i knew it. you’re no good. for me.
is all that is left of our love – an echo. or maybe

not so much an echo: at least an echo is a reciprocation;
my calls for your love bears no return.

The Being of Anatomy

False happiness is standing at the top of the building amongst the clouds in your coffee
til your heart floats sweet like the sugar remnants at the bottom of the building.

Emotional emptiness is a space
that physical intimacy, no matter how frequent or close, simply cannot feel.

I can no longer tel the difference between the ground that I step on and the contracts that I sign off on: both are solid but they remain void of meaning and virtue. The rich gets richer and the poor, poorer.

I have folded shapes of crescent and full only to arrive at a poor imitation of you:
Shinji Moon.