Brink
He introduced me to his son.
He was enamored. In awe.

When he introduced me to Jennings,
procurer of me and D’s first dance –
front stage – our wedding night,
his eyes reflected enlightenment.

When he introduced me to Black Rebel,
I believed him that it was real rock-n-roll, baby.
It is. I’m howling at the fault line.
There aint no easy way out.

When he introduced me to being a Christian,
outwardly, unafraid to believe,
I truly believed I believed.

As innocent bolts
we politely loved women.
We put Fear and Hatred in a guillotine,
chopping them like onions.
We had no bias.
We had only bias.
Our hatred was surely forgiven.

When introduced to adult-experiments;
alcohol and marijuana:
he was a spitball
glued to a church light.

When on scaffolding helping paint my mural in winter,
icicles hanging from the bars,
the LandMan requested we help move broken glass;

his gloves didn’t match,
and the heater was going to explode,
and he was a mumbling pillar

when he couldn’t paint orange.

When I decided to end contact,
he baffled.

Prey Hunt
In her pink dress
dusk stands above us like a gavel
anticipating the innocent bang.

Her breasts drip
innocent clouds – puffy, wily,
unbreakable and moved

by force of invisible.
Invisible: always an argument
for and against faith.

As her fabric stains deep
blue with the fascinating spinning
of our rock,

a hawk glides like a gladiator;
circling the small arena.
Attentive eye.

Prey not praying,
briskly unaware,
reveals herself open.

Painting Cement
Noticing the sloppy squares
covering artwork
on soundproofhighway walls,

rollers slapped by city workers
in the brisk winter where breath
floats like misty clouds,

I laugh how the squares,
the rectangles are more dangerous
than that which covered.

Why distract a driver with common
shapes when so easy to match
the color of cement?