The Thirteenth Of May

They come and go, days,

each like every other, another one to come

after this one is done.

We mark them or forget them or ignore them

as we choose,

the significance of a date often lost in the daze of our lives.

Joe Louis, Dennis Rodman, the Wonder of Stevie,

and lesser mortals, entered the world on this,

the Thirteenth of May,

while Doris, on this Day, left it.

And this day will soon be that day, passed, the past,

like those who come and go or came and went, alas.

What will tomorrow bring? More of the same thing.

So celebrate this day, the Thirteenth of May,

because, unlike all the other days

this day is today,

today.

We Don’t Understand Us

You don’t get it.

I can’t get it right.

We don’t understand us.

Nothing of us is understandable. We are complex,

complicated, completely normal

in our abnormal ways. This is how it goes,

how life unfolds for us, for all of us, for always,

forever, ’til death us do part, our carved hearts

entwined in the bloody accident of our meeting,

of our simple act of simply being,

of the living of our ordinary lives.

Husbands and wives.

Neither knows the other, and never will, anyway.

I know you little enough to be able to say

I do not know you, too.

You will always be a mystery to me,

as I will be to you.

And this is true,

love.

A Cactus

Love is like a cactus plant

A thing of beauty

That will hurt you

If you get too close.