Writing to Rachel

what a gentleman would say

Every memory we share;
writes a poem of trendy secrets about our lives,
spelling out her name next to mine with a star in between.

The nights we spent mindlessly
gazing into the sky, wondering what the future holds.
Now, I stand alone, thoughtfully staring through
my window, at the streetlamps below.
Remembering the girl whose face is on my wall.

If only I could erase her from my memories.
Covering my head with a blanket won't do any good.
she's occupying my mind with her skin.

As I try to be a perfect gentleman,
and say what is right. I find myself
struggling to make her fancy.

Still, I won't say that I would give the world for her;
maybe just an island or
maybe just a state.

Yet as I recall the night she bit my lip, and I kissed
her hand goodnight, I begin to wonder how much was left unsaid.

At a future point in time we may be able to walk down the halls of memory
with our frappe chinos in hand and discuss our new life that would soon begin.


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we're brothers

My tongue is a diving board for your lyrics.
Can't wait to toss them off,
hear the splash, see the ripples of your hand writing.

Friends are friends; we're more than that.
We're pals, We're buddies. We're more than that.
We're musicians, We're Pirates. Were more than that.
We're brothers.

We're brothers, that's what we are.

Standing beneath a clouded sky, the sun bleeding through.
Coats and Gloves. Extending our tongues to catch little white flakes of frozen water.

Let's take a walk;

you and me on top this thin layer of cotton snow.
Lets talk about here and there and all the girls in between.
Running start, lets jump over the half full trash can.
Lets climb the side of a wooden playground.
Lets rest on this snow covered bench
to think about times to come.

Were brothers, that's what we do.


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roller skating girl

Wheels on the skate floor move like a piece
written by a master composer.

Is this just another side-glance distraction
or should my full focus be set on you?

Mixed feelings on whether to engage in a chase
or let you come to me are pondered.
I am unaware of your thoughts and you are unaware of mine
as we skate in circles around this painted concrete.

Your eyes become satisfied at the sight of mine,
I spy your mouth forming a smile.

Conversations under a black light lead to
a deeper understanding of who we are.
A prank phone call followed by laughter reveals
playfulness in both of our souls.

As closing time pussyfoots upon us,
we find our cars and return home

with excitement and wonder
for tomorrow’s surprises.


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ice sculpture

A footprint in the snow, a bracelet on her wrist.
A tissue for her running nose, a jacket for the chill.

A yard with imprints, those of angels.
Two button-eyed figures stare blatantly at passing cars.

Smiles, gloves filled with snow, and wet clothes
entertain a child-hearted couple for an evening.


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call it quits

Sleepless nights are obvious.
one redbull, maybe two.
bloodshot eyes blow your cover.

Laying in bed swiftly tapping keys with your fingertips,
hoping to capture his face on the screen.
Several days fare, still not a clue of where to find him.

A trip to the coffee shop is desired.
Standing negligently in line, peaking over your shoulder.

Sitting at a table for two, in the far corner, rests the face of a long search.

A view from the side, reviels a young red head.
the two are found snickering as they talk.

Violently, tearing the wedding ring from your finger,
let it drop to the ground, cover your face with shame,
and dash out the nearest door.


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air freshener

Open door, Shed your close.
lift the cloud, slide into bed.

Deep breath, calm your mind.
tilt your head back, close your eyes.

The snowdrops have already bloomed this morning.

The fresh smell of dew fills your nose
in the month of December.

extend your arm to grasp her hand.
She's already left for work.

Late again.


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a night to be (part I)

She's leaning over the balcony
just enough for her fingers to tingle.
Eyes closed, standing there in her soft white evening gown
remembering last nights dreams.

'He was such a gentleman.'

The play was one of her favorites.
'Brilliant' He exclaimed passing through the exit.

They walked down the red brick road
speaking of Operas, Theatres, and such topics.
He in his pressed black suit,
Her in her open back black dress, heels in hand.
In the chill she wore his jacket.

To end the night a ring was presented on one knee.

'I can't wait until-..'

(Knock, Knock, Knock)

'Sweetheart, are you ready? The show starts in an hour.'


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a night to be (part II)

He checks one more time for any fuzz on his jacket.
Deep breath, straitining his tie, anticipating how the evening will play out.

'It's good to be nervous. ' As he opens the door.

Not to excited about the theme of the play.
'She'll be in tears when she sees the ring' He exclaimed.

Imagining topics to talk of on the walk home.
emptying his jacket pockets in case she might get cold.

'I'll wait until the end of the night to ask.'

One hour until the show.

(Knock, Knock, Knock)

'Sweetheart, are you ready? The show starts in an hour.'


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castle of snow

Let's take a walk.
Wearing jackets, Holding each others fingers.
Ignore your phone because you value my hand more.

Playful banter.
I put your hood on your head.

Point out the squirrels as we informally
meander down this abused sidewalk.
I'll admire your breath as you speak of
firsts and things of the past.

Give me twenty-four hours
and I'll give you all I'm worth.

One boy, one girl, one minute at a time.
We mosey on hoping never to reach our destination.

Days start and days end with a yawn,
a change of clothes, and a lengthy phone call.


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records, canvas, and paper

The wine grew stale from sitting out all night.
The Clash skipping at the end of side one.
Pictionary laid a mess beneath the fold out bed.
Oh, that subvert bed.

In a playful manor,
She wrapped the sheets around her body.
What was she implying?

Just past midnight,
we took a walk into town.

Lifeless.

Street lights lit the sidewalks and parallel parking spaces.
I held her hand as she walked along a frosted bench.

"I'll race you home"
We ran.
I don't know why.
We just ran until our lungs froze of the night air.

Upon re-entering our small house,
the jackets were shed,
and the needle was placed on a disc.
"I fought the law"

She went to painting, I to writing.
I tend to favor her paintings done after dark.
They are the most inspired.
I as well do my best work after dark.

So it is, two artists,
reimagining the night on canvas and paper.


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iced apple juice and a paint brush

Concentrated on her work,
She doesn’t notice the door open.
Standing in the doorway,
I watch the delicate strokes she makes.
Careful not to stray from the image in her head.

In only a pair of ripped jeans,
She creates a beautiful image.
She says it makes her feel open and free.

A glass of iced apple juice sits stagnant on the desk.

With a hand on her hip,
She steps back to admire the canvas.

As she spun to me,
Her hair whirled into her face.
Pushing her hair aside with a single finger,
She asks for an opinion.

“Beautiful my dear”

I receive a brief, satisfied smile before she sips her drink,
And continues painting.

I take a seat in the corner,
and watch the creation of her wall flower.


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a ryan christmas

The snow falls once a year,
The season I love.
Snowmen, angels, and frosted trees,
Cool my toes and above.

Looking through the frosted glass,
It’s normal to your eyes.
From around the world there is no beauty,
It’s only cold and dry.

I wish I were standing next to you,
Your wife and Erin close by.
Doing whatever it is we want,
And nobody asks why.

Alas I sit around the world,
Writing you a word.
With your voice inside my head,
The one I wish I heard.


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