I last saw you the 5th of May
a date etched on my mind
not a day goes by
I virtually wander the shoreline
kicking up dust and skipping
thoughts once set in stone
it’s evening time but there is no sun
no wind or rain or moon
I walk the trail around the pond
flat blue jewel clenched in my hand
wondering what on earth is
making the water ripple
june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’m standing fuming on the mound
head looking up and cleats kicking dirt
pissing and moaning underneath my breath
coach and catcher are stepping toward me
the former tapping his left forearm
the latter blowing a bazooka joe bubble
they stop a few feet away from earshot
in order to have a fifteen second conversation
cheers and jeers from the raucous crowd
come in loud and clear
and I can only imagine how they hate
to see me go so soon
I’ve been in town for less than a day now
and already I hate this fucking place
june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we keep planting seeds not knowing
what if anything will come out of the ground
sometimes we are pleasantly surprised
yet other times we chalk the results
up to luck of the draw
there is nothing charming about bad seeds
but somehow we learn to live with them
every so often I go back to the clinic
to have them tested
and each time they’re slightly different
the good doctor telling me
there is nothing wrong with change
given a clean bill of health
I bring home a new garden spade
hang it unceremoniously on the wall
a packet of wildflower seeds
shoved inside my back pocket
june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
how you knew so far in advance
remains a mystery to this day
unless of course you had miraculously
rediscovered your clairvoyance at the
exact time I relinquished my rights
to any sort of extrasensory perception
though unprepared to give up anything
(especially in my formative years)
I transfer all powers I once possessed
(whether real or imaginary) to you
june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
so here I am held in some detention camp
along with every living soul I ever knew
one by one they are called away
until eventually I find myself alone again
selfishly gathering their freshly strewn petals
june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
what is to become of me my love
now that the sun shines anew
tomorrow was meant for dreams
an inheritance of possibilities
unfulfilled by your sudden departure
hesitant to wander this world again
I beg the sun to sink no further
praying your undying love
resurfaces as you once promised
june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
she so loved porcelain
telling me how she wished
she could be reborn this way
I said all I know is papier-mâché
but would do my best to
make it seem as she wished
it’s difficult to make amends
and rebuild a life that was
meant to live just once
but here I am reconstructing
making papier-mâché
out of porcelain
so that she may live again
I whisper into her inner ear
challenging her to make herself
defying those prevailing winds
attempting to tear her apart
june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
after days of all night rains
black ants finally infiltrated the kitchen
weeks of planning coming to fruition
once the perfect storms rolled in
their triumphant march
short-lived in and around canisters
filled with flour and sugar
and assortment of teas
their massacre eventually swift
long to be remembered by those
repulsed of their presence
having neither program nor policy
on how to deal with their sudden arrival
and disturbing disappearance
june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s late in the afternoon
shadows stretch toward the river
covering its rocky banks with a
thin layer of geometric trickery
I find myself at the edge
standing calmly yet powerless
visualizing what changes must be made
to continue on this journey
opportunities run rampant
ubiquitous as the setting sun
brave and polished and callous
I pick one or three out of thin air
courage is overrated
or so I try to tell myself
lifting my spirit above my body
if only for a moment in time
june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’m like an undocumented alien
waiting in the gray room
blurred around the edges
keeping warm by candlelight
there is very little to read
but content is everywhere
and though drowsy
I stay wide awake just in
case they call my name
rows away children sleep
snickering and whimpering
unintelligible words in the air
like flashes of joy and fear
june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
to clear the mind emotionally
rediscovering that long lost safe corner
where there are no red alerts
no do-overs or second guesses
inner harmony lights shining
brightly from the darkness
what she would call
the madness from within
when least expected
she would sing throughout the night
she but a child and me but a seed
planted within her imagination
continuing to grow freely
developing into a clearer image
she would eventually accept
outside an isolated screen
june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I don’t feel tired at all
(oh no not at all)
I’m feeling like a breaking wave
rushing toward ocean’s shoreline
angels singing by my side
clouds full of rain following above
waiting patiently for me to make landfall
destined to become nothing but a puddle
dying to be loved by the sun itself
june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I lost my lunch money
or maybe the cat ate it
the monetary note in my pocket
used to be worth something
but now won’t even buy me
a slice of love
the old lady next door
has a pecan pie
cooling on the window sill
she’s trying to entice me
I just know it
but I won’t fall for it again
all the houses
thirteen blocks away
have all but vanished
some saying if the winds
don’t reverse direction soon
we’ll be evicted next
june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
though temporary
the heat of the day sends our thoughts
well beyond our fears
sympathetic to the miseries of the poor
seeking shelter any possible way
a slice of shade from a city wall
or beneath a tree that has given
comfort to multitudes over the years
in the city center public fountains
create rainbows
children chasing pots of gold
gifts from the gods of nourishment
who giveth and taketh without discretion
a reminder that we are all but a step
away in or out of the fray
be thankful for what you have
whether it be a piece of cloth
or a handful of clay to be
molded into new possibilities
be hopeful and lend a hand
whenever possible
for you will be rewarded
twentyfold in this world and the next
june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s not easy to survive without love
someone to touch
if only for a moment in time
attempting to describe
that which can never be
like a sunset in wintertime
that was meant for only you and me
june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
stardust in the exosphere
older than the moon
purveyor of time
mysteriously coexisting
and quietly contributing
to the evolution of life
wayward meteors
breach the surface
children of the earth
pointing and marveling
saying look there goes
another shooting star
oh there she goes again
bringing with her
more ancient stardust
making it fall like rain
nourishing the very ground
we so heavily trod upon
june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 