Finding Voice

I walked outside and screamed at the bottom of my driveway,

only because I knew no one would notice,

well, they did, and their doors shut,

I stood in my neighborhood and felt completely alone.


The manicured lawns,

similarly styled rose gardens,

the roof repair and invisible fences,

street signs that suggested we all slow down.


I glanced around and decided to scream outloud again,

more doors shut,

the street seemed to empty in a silence

more apparent than I’d noticed before my unravel.


I stood there for a long time

watched kids on their bicycles take the corner before

having to coast past the man at the end of the driveway,

I realized for the first time I might have been noticed.


I walked back up to my garage,

played some music while drilling some wood,

the sweat on my brow, I wiped with my forearm,

I glanced at the street, a squad rode by … I waved.

Saturday Nights

I remember those nights

wondering, hoping, stepping through

a wood like forest in the confusion.

I recall looking outside of myself

and seeing a lonely man

phone never rang, doorbell silent,

even the neighborhood would seem vacant.

I remember Saturday nights

filling the void, hoping to avoid

anyone recognizing my pain

always with a smile in the public eye.

I remember lonely nights

feeling always disconnected

thinking all of the ‘they’ people

were out of my league.

I walked outside one Saturday night

looked around at the houses

a few cars drifting by and glanced back,

saw my image in the picture window.

A statue living amongst the vines.

Evening Rounds

Social manners inside the hour of night

Delightful laughs, patterned clever asides

Within the moment of an hour might

Lives remain intertwined as time abides

Certain personas come to life in bars

The sort our moms suggest we avoid

Yet, quite frankly fun breathes under the stars

Fake accents that quietly fill the void.

Drinks become a commodity as time

Begins to wane while your impulse takes chance

Will you look spectacular or sublime

When morning calls whence we pull on our pants.

The sparkling sun that exposes our face

Cannot then hinder last night’s even pace.



That’s Just It

What defines us?

Saw a Porsche on the avenue,

sleek gray with rimless wheels,

the driver appeared to be, human.

Headphones, coffee and laptops

and everyone alone


unless souls revealed, found out.

I sent you positive energy the other day

did you get it?

Remember that time they all meant complete control

over your psyche,

no muscle could be tweaked until their eyes left.

Saw you again the other night

with your friends,

laughing and looking around

in that elegant pose:

I was the guy over in the corner that

wanted to be forgotten about

before anyone noticed.

Did you see me?

How funny a given moment can be

when in the grand scheme of things

all that we wish upon becomes

simple fact, distant truth, vague reality.

That’s just it,

I heard her say the other day

when trying to recall

just how forgotten about that moment

became that one night,

when in the bar,

he stood nearby

but didn’t say a word,

rather instead tried to act as if he didn’t really care.

That’s just it.