Seashells

I was told that seashells

are magical. But when shaking hands

cupped the ivory over my ear

all I could hear

was the ocean. 

And there was nothing

more beautiful than the purl

of pacific waves

until I could no longer

hear your assurance. 

Dead Man

I volunteered to be the dead man. 

I don't have to feel

much. Just the hammock 

swaying as children's feet

bounce around my

body. My feet

are the same size. But I am gray

I am still, like those gone

before what is considered

fair. The counting 

has stopped and I don't want 

to wake up to search

for someone alive. 

Over It

I used to build 

ramps 

with bricks and plywood

and I soared over 

things on my blue mountain 

bike. Don't you remember

love, how it feels to fear

only what we do not understand? 

And when you're 11 you understand 

most of everything:

How to jump off swings

climb trees

catch bugs.

It seems the only thing I catch

lately 

is that wicked thought

of catching my breath 

as I brave that ramp 

over things.

Rain

Much like people 

Clouds find each other

hold each other

until they can no longer contain

themselves. 

Much like rain.

Missing

Whether the cup

is half empty

or half full

does not change

that something

is missing

and that thing

cannot be replenished

regardless the amount

of drinks I now consume.