Shattered

On the edge of reality
my new homeless friend
describes, in great detail,
his broken down body,
following a motorcycle crash:
"Pins here and here,
A metal rod there,
a plate in the back of my head
and a hole in my gut."

His great love was shattered, too,
but not to worry;
he wears the Harley logo, still,
emblazoned on his jacket
and his chest
(he lifts his shirt
to prove the point).
He holds the memory of the bike
in his heart
along with the memory of
two daughters missing
after a seperate,
chaotic crash
of family.

They require no tattoo.

R

The Song

There is music
That runs through me
Sometimes pizzicato
Sometime adagio
Sometimes harmonic
And then dissonant.

How about you?

Do you feel the stars
Vibrating
To a sweeping unheard symphony
Resonating inside and out?
Do you feel the thump
Of bass
As God’s low-rider,
Windows down,
Makes life jump for joy?

So why do you hear
That same tune
And tap your toe
In synch with me,
And the others
I love
Do not?

I sing alone,
But not alone at all.
I sing with you
Wherever we find ourselves
Under the same
Shimmering sun
Vibrating stars.