Meditations on Sugar, Spice, and Expiry Dates

Gods, I’m glad I was introduced to the like of Frank O’Hara and Kenneth Koch. Not that I’m magically their equals, but at least I have a map now. I know what to say for when I’m in states like this. Unrelenting affection for people I love sure is something, ain’t it?


You're maybe not everything nice, but that's fine.
    You're not an ideal nor are you ideal—
    not a great start, but let me finish.
    There's a start of something, not new,
    familiar like home where I can lay.
    You're what I'd keep if I had to leave all else—
    warming me against the cold and dark I made up.

    In clouded negativity where I occasionally
    wallow, I am saved by every memory of you.

    Light is the dull and obvious analogy.

    You're more an epiphany reminding me
    why I choose to be here. A kick in the gut
    telling me I should be here, otherwise,
    assuming faith, the afterlife
    would be pain and regret.

Though Eden is a scam, entropy, unfortunately, isn't.
        run out of sand.
    Neither of us
        around for Christmas parties.
    Unalive you,
        unable to ask me for little favors.
    I, now gone,
        crushed that I can't do anything for you.
    Our ashes,

Luckily—knock on wood a hundred times—
    we're not crossing yet.

You still smile. Though I don't say
    you always should. Your laughter follows,
    permeates like blood in water.
    I, not a hunter, follow the trail
    known by heart. You never ask me for
    whatever you want but know
    that I still give anyway.

Despite chance, time, and ends,
    the choice remains. So here
    I remember you.


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