On the Eve of My Thirtieth Birthday
(first published in Debris Magazine)

Tonight
I came upon
a single eyebrow hair.

Longer
Knowing more
than younger saplings

Harder
Defending against weather
of windy winter months

Uglier
Alone in its uniqueness
next to petite blissful masses

Whiter
Loss of pigment
forced out by fears of dreams no longer

Plucked
It lies discarded
but not submitting

For other soldiers will invade
those fine naïve young brown ones.

---

Striking Thoughts
(first published in Yellow Mama)

No whack is too far below the belt among amigos. We roamed the bedraggled
crowded bar like undercover agents. Striking victims with our stealth, wicked
trickster hands. Creating anger, fear, and failed retributions

Ball tapping - Our defense was sound. A bar so loud, they never heard us
coming, and shields, we held our beer bottles below our belts. No reprisals
would ever shake the glass walls in front of our balls so we went on

Ball tapping - None of us got laid that night. Someone actually tapped me.
But the pain subsided and I downed my beer, I got him good.
A low back-hand that would make even Monica Seles shout.

One day I'll meet a Leonardo DeCaprio or Mel Gibson. I won't ask for an autograph. I'll feign insouciance as I walk by. I'll tell my grand kids 'I saw so and so celebrity and they didn't hear it coming when I let my hand fly.