Pants

Why oh why do I have to wear you?
I mean really?

I know that my legs are chubby
my knees scarred from bike rides
and pocketing edema

My thighs may be a little unshaved
freckled and bumpy
covered in random marks

But their sturdy, these legs of mine
they get me from here to there
they work well enough

So why do I have to cover them?
Why do they have to hide?

I've never found reason to doubt their
beauty
I've never found reason to make them
shy.

Giveaway

I didn't know that when I walked in
you'd be waiting in slippers
and old pajamas
eyes blurred from degenerative
lenses
tears teasing the corners
arms stretched crookedly out
to present me with a gift.

And I took it
because I promised I would
but we both knew what that meant

and neither one of us felt like a winner.

Tired

I wish the world were a gigantic
bean bag

this way everywhere I go I could
stop
drop
and
sleep.

Space on the Blanket

Light and Dark
cannot occupy
the same
space

That's why Lucy never got
invited to the
picnic

He refused to bring Lemonade
when God gave him
lemons.

Yarn

Oh I could tell you
long as the yellow spun
one hell of a
story.

But I won't.

I prefer to leave the
details
to your
imagination.

Dirty Laundry

I drape you around me
smeared in yesterday's
squeaky wheelchair grease
and chocolate stained smudges.

You loved me then
Beautiful me
Beautiful you
Beautiful then.

But it's today
the wheelchair was given
to the Care Chest
and I don't get coffee
at that Raley's
anymore.

You still love me
Beautiful me
Beautiful you
Beautiful now

only I can't drape
what has been washed
with the detergent
of time around shoulders
older and wiser
to the cost of a
clean shirt

but I can remember
the feel of it
long after the stain
is gone.

Misplaced

I fell again
between the driver's side
and the gear shift.

You looked for me
eyes scanning bathroom counters
and couch crevices.

But alas
I wasn't where
you thought I
was

waiting for you
to notice
waiting for you
to feel

cool touch of my
silicon casing
only to discover
twenty-five cents
and toothpaste
don't add up
to the clean connectivity
of my numbered face

which is why I've
developed a homing beacon
I call it FINDER'S KEEPER
because I might have to
go home with a stranger
if you don't notice

the places
you're missing.