It’s time to move on
She wrote.
He clicks, ‘Keep as New’
Not wanting to let go
And keeps returning to the page
As if to hold her back.
Bittersweet
Her voice echoes in his mind
It’s time to move on.

It’s time to move on
He knows.
Yet he knows not where
Or why she took their future with her.
Moonlight taunts him
Granting him no solace.
He can’t escape the volume
Of unanswered questions
In the silence before dawn.

It’s time to move on
He tries.
But there’s no reprise of
The scent of her skin
The depth of her breathing
The feel of her hair
Swaying across his face
While chasing memories
From flowing sheets.

It’s time to move on
He thinks.
Finding no refuge in another’s arms
No pleasure in the moment
No calm in those that follow.
Emptiness burrows deeper
Filling a void he can’t replace.
He leaves
Realizing, it’s time to move on.

© 2013

I wonder
What’s going on in your car?
As I sit at a light
Waiting for red to turn green
Spare moments reflecting on the evening
Our lips touching
Bodies close
On a New York street
Shaded from the streetlight
By an old oak in chilly darkness.

I wonder
What’s going on in your car?
As I struggle with our intimate encounter
Wandering through scenarios
Losing you totally
Taking you totally
The right, the wrong, the desire, the passion.
The transformation from innocent chatter
To a wanton embrace
Blurring boundaries and reality.

And as we head in different directions
On different highways
To different lives
I wonder
What’s going on in your car?

© 1995

He smiles warmly
With fists clenched deep in his pockets.

Conversation flows freely
Yet intimate thoughts never pass his lips.

Peering through a veil of bravado and self-confidence
He fears the eyes of knowledge.

Wrapped in the arms of a lover
He is alone.

(c) 1995

I heard she was beautiful.
Her hair would fly like a kite on the wind
Raven strands glittering amber in the sun.
You said so.

Her laughter came easily
Her arms held firmly
Her love flowed freely.
You said so.

I’ve sought her out.
At places you said she loved.
The pier at sundown.
The carousel on rainy days.
The park on autumn afternoons.

I remember her – faintly
While catching a glimpse of lovers passing.
But it only makes me miss her more
Why did she leave me
So incapable of being anything like her?

(c) 1992