those roses

Those roses turning from red to blue 

settling into an image not so different from when I offered them 

upon the altar of love

 They are not dying or losing their appeal

 just changing, transforming the idea is the same 

These have no thorns but our love does

 There is blood and pain along with the valentine 

Yet, like the roses We will persist,

 changing from red to blue and sometimes 

to black and blue part of the boquet I suppose

Routines

Routines

 I rose and plodded into the pre-planned Shower-water

 Today no shampoo, tomorrow yes 

Dried with the beige towel

 Fitted on my comfortable sensibles

 Sat before measured oatmeal

 Filled a thermos with coffee 

Placed an apple, an orange, a banana

 Into a recently washed clothe bag

 Drove 5.5 miles to the reservoir

 Put on my certain soft shoes 

Walked 2.4 miles around

 Looked at the lake at given points 

Searched for the blue heron

 Listened to the geese in flight

 Drove 5.8 miles to work

 Listened to that morning show

On radio, mostly Mozart 

Parked underground, gave up my keys

 Walked approximately four blocks 

Put a badge around my neck

 Entered through the same door

 Road the steel elevator to the basement

 Checked my e-mail, opened a window

 Drank the coffee and thought of you

 Of that night we became eachother

 Holding on and letting go

 Loving with reckless abandon

 That love smashed down the fences

 Roared out over the Pacific Ocean

 Turned the tight spool of my heart

 Into a whirring blur of line

 Like taking a blue marlin On heavy-test

 In the Sea of Cortez

 I soared above the San Gabriels

 Head up, breathing sweet clean air

 Heart pounding, blood coursing

 Like wild horses exploring the canyon floor

 At a full gallop without concern 

For the next bend in the trail 

No bounds, no boundaries

 Not a care in the world

Except when will I see you again.