When I was sixteen, I moved to a neighboring state without my parents. During my absence, my maternal grandfather died, and I had to return home to be with my mom. Her father's death broke her. At sixteen I was both annoyed and confused. My mother's father had been both physically and mentally abusive to … Continue reading Damn you, Adam Silvera
Each June I delved inward. A time to recognize the angel and demon living within me. I have both; you do too. I imagine them getting up each morning at the exact time I do. After wiping the sleep from their eyes and a quick cup of java, they grab their little suitcases and head … Continue reading Angels and Demons Hard at Work
I love as a man burdened. Full of regret, easy to please, quick to forgive. A man with a squandered past. Paying a debt, weak in the heart, and pliable. A broken man who often forgets the art of breath and your absence.
"Your mother was not attracted to nice men." My aunt's comment made me miserable. I felt that my mother merited a kind man, someone who was not my father. And I deserved preserving the illusion of being someone else's son. I suppose my mother didn't, and I don't have the most profound intuition when it … Continue reading Intuition
I lay contemplating my mad existence. On Monday I begin my Summer college courses, at fifty-eight years old! I attended the same community college straight out of high school. Funny how the places you hated at a young age will likely lure you back later in life, like the AC to your DC. I'm retired … Continue reading Vacant Pillow
Last fall I returned to college, primarily for entertainment. At fifty-seven, I found myself in the company of perky breasts and firm buttocks. My classmates and gravity had obviously not had the pleasure. Now, I'm not the type of guy that seeks out these sort of things. But, skinny-jeans and undersize t-shirts leave little to … Continue reading All Man-Boobs And Flat Ass
I got lost in your kiss, in the bitter coffee aftertaste and the stale smell of sweat on the fringes of your long hair. Your hand found its way to my cheek and calmed the passionate morning sun. My synapses misfired. And then it happened. Remember? Her trusting smile appeared on the face of your … Continue reading Remember That Morning? 1.1
Remember that morning? We'd made love for the first time the night before, underneath the Harvey Milk Poster. We were so unsure of ourselves the next day. Grabbing a warm coffee and an adoring smile from my mom, we walked outside. We sat in the backyard. The faint fragrance of midnight Jasmine lingered in the … Continue reading Remember That Morning?