So few people have
Eras attached to their names
It boggles the mind 

With each step thunder
Exhales like rain yet can stare
With recognition

I think I’ll start drawing people who’ve touched my life, from different periods of my life. This is somebody who made my days bearable at work. At the time, I would clock before sunrise after three hours of sleep because I was also juggling school and directing a play. She would greet you like a long lost friend every time. Every single time. Reminds me of the good in people.

On cold mornings when
Zombies drink coffee over
kitchen sinks, she smiles

Rain can be gloomy, but it’s nurturing. But how would I know? I live in San Diego.

Unmoving branches
Bombarded by sheets of rain
No leaves to catch them 

Lips that even from
Afar, strike onlookers’ eyes
And eyes that strike soul 

The next sibling of mine you haven’t seen is my sister. It was her birthday recently. We’ve had so many adventures together. Back when anything yards past our house was uncharted territory.

Children stomp in grass
Terrifying residents
Of animal kind

The most unpleasant haircut I ever had happened in 8th grade. My mom brought me to a barber who asked what I wanted. I mumbled something to the effect of “Maybe something short?” By the time the barber swirled me around, I had a nearly-shaven head. I don’t remember if I protested. I don’t remember if I noticed how much hair was being buzzed off. All I remember was the next day in school: I spent most of it looking at the floor. I didn’t want to look at peoples’ reactions, but I could see them on the periphery. So many shoes I saw that day.

Finally, a friend of mine put her head on my desk to meet my eyes. “I like it,” she said. And ever since, about once a year, I get a really short haircut. Maybe not completely buzzed, but pretty close.

Raining black bristles
On floor around my sneakers
My head getting light

In games without time limits, I indulge in said time. If you ever play chess, scrabble, or risk with me, bring a book along.

All possible moves
One by one play through his head
Meanwhile, glaciers melt 

They don’t produce my car anymore. I think I will keep it as long as I can, and give it a new shiny paint job down the road. That should keep it happy. I just wish it was faster.

Engine roars through skin
Flings gravel with spinning wheels
To scale tiny hill

Gardenia’s symbolize secret love. Or so I’ve read.

Opens old locker
To find withered petals whose
Scent, like love, is gone