iF i NeVEr wRiTe tHiS pOEm
If I never write this poem
I might never have met you
been able to guess all your secrets
or undressed you in my mind
all before you finish
the next line
I might never have gone skinny-dipping
under the brightly colored stringers
in the calm bay waters, freezing,
while thinking about your eyes
and what your life will be like
If I never write this poem
I could never say what I think
unless, of course, you are as bizarre
and fun, as I think, you might be
dancing among the pink tutus
trying to see, and avoid being crushed
by the spinning hippopotami, of
a culture that consumes too much
If I never write this poem
I could never say how I feel
about our future together
without clean water, or GMOs, or
tiny homes for all the homeless
people, the money chase
creating nothing beautiful,
except when it benefits all
our collective future, kind
being the best part of man.
And I might never think
to write about my mother
or pen a line, send a thought,
a smile, to make her cry, laugh,
and remember the day she
first brought my giggles home
how would she ever know
how much I love her now
Some details can never
be artfully spoken
If I never write this poem
Would your life be different
If the people around you
knew how you truly felt
Truth is not always love
But love is always truth
I wish more people knew this
I wish more people knew
the words I put on paper
And scream to the crimson sky gods
when the muses are drinking again
this time, Vodka, bloody marys,
with giant stalks of mint green
celery, salt, splash of worcestershire
heart-breaking pain, on a pretty page,
served with fish-egg hors d'oeurves
and only the finest French cheese,
being one of the only luxuries left,
a poor man can still afford, to love
something you might never ponder
If I never write this poem
Let it be known that I love my girls,
even if I feel like a failure to them
If I never write this poem
How would they ever know,
this is how I express my love.