Lost the Beat

September 26, 2017

Lost the Beat

We had it all once, babe,
a glorious moment in the sun.
We had it, loved naively,
but serenely blind we came undone

It slipped away so easily,
each of us felt carefree, still thinking
all was well between us:
Our hearts broke each other without blinking

Remembering our life now
it all feels ridiculous, absurd,
I guess our love was frail indeed,
we both let it go without a word.

If I could, I’d take it back,
but our shattered hearts are rightly wary.
My wretched soul fears more pain
and sees you as its adversary.

So we stay apart, my dear.
I won’t risk grief over you anew.
Reign nostalgia firmly in
and bid you decisively adieu.




April 20, 2016

You know some people walk around and its like they have a bitter pill in their mouth all the time, and they never want to spit it out, they just want to be offended by fucking everything?

Yeah, that was my ex. All I ever wanted from life was to do my job, which I love, by the way, and come home and be with someone who is good to be with. Maybe have a nice vacation sometimes. A few hobbies, camping maybe. And there was my ex, sucking on that bitter pill all the time, spitting out angry comments and imagining slights everywhere. It was exhausting.

Who knows what the original beef was. God, mommy probably loved someone else more, or baby brother got a bigger piece of cake or a fancier bike at Christmas. Who cares? Get over it, seriously.

But that’s neither here nor there. I said “ex” because that’s in the past. Now my life is almost what I want. Almost. The ex is gone because I needed peace. I still love my job, which, if I didn’t mention before is cakes. I make cakes, and they are everything you ever imagined a cake can be. God, I’m good at cakes. If you have a talent and you can make money at it, well, that’s practically heaven.

You may have noticed I keep changing the subject, a problem I have, I guess, and maybe why the ex agreed to a divorce. Which leads me back to what I was going to say. Almost perfect. I even go camping sometimes. But the house is always empty, and it wouldn’t be right to have pets I never see. So I find myself working later and later, taking commissions I wouldn’t normally take, making money I don’t need, but staying busy so I don’t have to go home to that goddamn empty house.

Which leads me to Andy. Andy of the perfect body and bright smile and sunny hair and strong hands. I could go on, but I sense boredom setting in. Andy is a masseuse I met when, after constructing the ultimate dragon cake—seriously, six feet long, breathed fire, the works—for a geek couple’s sci-fi wedding. They were so grateful they gave me Andy, or, well, heh, a session with Andy after I was done with all the heavy lifting. So they were off on their honeymoon, and there I was, naked under a sheet, and Andy came in and my heart stopped and I can’t say it ever started back up again. I’ve lived with it in my throat ever since.

Have you ever met someone and you knew immediately there was a connection? I think everyone has at least once, and if you haven’t, get out there and find it because it’s like being drunk and high and having an orgasm all at once. Every cell in your body lights up, seriously, believe it or not, it’s a real thing. Oh, Andy, Andy, Andy, that was it for me. I couldn’t even speak, and thank God I didn’t have to, I was having a massage.

Aware of every single muscle, tendon, blood vessel, and hair follicle. Also aware of every flaw, bulge, corn, blemish, and stubble. Still, every cell in my body sang. I practically ignited at Andy’s first touch and none of that mattered anymore.

Jeez, you probably think I’m nuts. That my ex was the only person I’d ever had sex with? Not true. I’ve always been active that way. It’s usually a fun, relaxing thing, I don’t want strings attached, and that’s okay. But after Andy? I don’t know if I can ever stand to have another person touch my body again. Ever.

Yet I had no ability to speak, at least not the first time. And yes, I’ve seen Andy since. Or, I’ve made appointments to have a massage, and yes, Andy’s hands have been on my naked body again. God, just not the way I want.

I just don’t know, though, if I’m imagining what I think I am feeling. Sometimes it seems like there is a slow, languorous, lingering in Andy’s touch. Sometimes it seems so sensual, but I can’t tell if its me and my longing for that or actual, real, honest, mutual attraction.

So, I made my play, lame as it is, and I’m waiting to see if Andy shows up. After the massage, I left the payment in an envelope…with a note. It seems so stupid now, but I can’t seem to be coherent when Andy’s around. It was an invitation to dinner…and breakfast. Yeah, I mean, yeah, staying the night. And I said if there was no interest, no harm, no foul, we could just go on the way we’ve been. But it’s almost seven now and I don’t know if I will eat this dinner alone or not. The candles are lit, the music is on, and I’m in my finest jeans and t-shirt. What do you want? I’m a baker not a CEO.

Fuck, I’m an idiot.

Wait. That’s the doorbell.


April 19, 2016


I live for the dark,
bathing in the light of the moon
I feel revived, fortified.

Fancy meeting you
on one of my midnight rambles,
the brief consternation of meeting another
mingled with the joy
of discovering a like mind.

We walked together a while.
I wondered if you were real.
You felt like an illusion my sex-starved brain imagined.
I felt an insane urge to take you home.
So I did.

O what a delicious night.

In the morning you were gone
melted away in the light of day
like the lost radiance
of the stars.



Not a Fool

April 1, 2016

Not a fool
to love you so.
Not a fool
to find joy in
your steady gaze
your open heart
your loving arms
your thoughtful touch
your peaceful depth
your constancy
your hungry kiss.
Not a fool to love
this time.


March 2, 2016


So there I am
at the reference desk as always
and here you come again.

I know you visit on Thursdays.
You go straight to what you want,
no wandering the aisles.

No asking for help
finding something special,
my loss.

My eyes follow you as always.
They linger on your form
and I try not to think rude, selfish thoughts
as I notice others watching too.

This time you pass closer to my desk.
You notice my eyes on you.
You smile.

I am blinded.
Lost, lost,

You stop.
I try to catch my breath.
My smile is hesitant,
then full. I can actually
my eyes twinkling at you.

“You wanna get coffee with me?
Or tea. Whatever you drink… Uh…”

I can’t believe you are as hesitant as I am.
You look so confident.
Oh shit, I need to answer…

“Yes! Um, yes, coffee is nice, I love coffee.”
I feel foolish.

But you smile again.
“When do you get off?”

I hesitate, gulp, OH!

“Off work, you mean?”
(…O M G …)

You chuckle, and I love the sound of it.
“Yeah, heh. That too.”

I give you my number,
I tell you the time I’m leaving.
Our eyes meet again, and I am

And then you are gone.

I love coffee.


November 17, 2015


Sure, I realize you’re gone—while I’m awake.
I steel myself to the empty places in
the house, in my life. I come home knowing
it will be dark and I will be alone.
The TV is too loud, but it drowns out
the silence. So why can’t I sleep without
dreaming of you here with me in this bed
the way we used to be? In the morning
I wake tangled in sheets I was searching
for you—your body, your warmth, the you-ness
of you. The dreams are so real, though, I am
disappointed every morning when I
realize again that you’re really gone.

I find myself sleeping more, so as to
spend more time with you. I feel you with me
as surely as you ever were alive.
Your lips graze mine so softly, the bristle
of your beard burns my chin, as always. We
love each other all night long, in my dreams.
But when I wake, I find the beard burn on
my face. My body feels sore and well-loved.
And I’ve begun to be afraid of you.
Now I plan to leave, vacation in some
far-away locale. Surely, you won’t find
me there. I hope this one last night with you
will be enough to appease your spirit.


November 14, 2015


Summer Evening by Edward Hopper

Summer Evening by Edward Hopper

the time we spent before
not so long ago,
your lips were on me,
our sweat mingling
and both of us
all unaware of
the existence of the world,
other than the one
we created together.

Now at the door,
reluctant to say goodbye,
my body still thrums
when I remember.


November 13, 2015


We met at the park,
you came upon me and stopped to talk.
When you saw I had kids
you didn’t freak out and
I smiled.

You never pushed too hard,
but you invited me places.
We met again and again,
and every time
I smiled.

One night, saying goodbye,
you reached into the car
and kissed me.
All the way home, oh, how
I smiled.

One night, at your place,
we explored one another,
and before it went too far
you asked me,
“Are you sure?”
I said yes, and
I smiled.

So many nights together,
you came to mine and tapped
at the bedroom window.
I would fly to the front door
and we would kiss and kiss.
So much love,
so many smiles.

Whatever happened to us?




November 12, 2015


Hearts still thudding,
but slowing.
Languorous and rosy
with passion
I lean over
for a kiss and
taste myself
on your lips.



November 11, 2015


Some certain scent you have
that makes my inner beast appear.
Some warm, melting look you give,
some lingering touch,
makes me want to lose control.

I can contain it if I want to.
I can push down the feelings
and later think upon you
while I ease my suffering
alone and shuddering,
your face on my mind.

I need to know, though,
if you feel what I am feeling.

Does my scent arouse?
Does my watchful gaze stir you?
Does your beast want to
come out and play?
I know
what I want you to say.