Artificial Roses Folded from Dark Leather

on barbed wire stems,
a bouquet of them, in a vase of poison.
What kind of gift is this?
Heartfelt, perhaps, but
what heart and what feelings
and for what possible reason?

The window's glass is broken,
it's sill a shelf for display:
reflective surfaces, shattered,
gleam dull rust and ochre,
oxblood and iron.
And these are this new valentine's
coded chromography.
What is the love that's messaged
by a tissue sample?

I may remember passion and
the forms that passion may assume,
but the concreteness of it all is still unsettling.
I may remember when things could matter this much,
but it doesn't mean they do.
With dustpan and broom I may
remove the evidence of this expression
and be impressed or not but
I certainly have a window to repair.
About this all,
that much is true and purely recognized.

I wish I had a dime for every dollar spent on love,
a fraction of the time invested on moments deemed timeless.
Oh, what a moderately comfortable middle-aged man I'd be!

30 Seconds Over Tokyo

"JE-sus!" I said when it hit me. "She's leaving!"

And I got to the window quick. Susan was leaving. She had shrieked out the front door and down the short flight of steps to the driveway. I had framed that window's pale sills myself several years earlier. It had been a satisfying project and looking through it was satisfying as well.

While searching her purse for her keys to our car, she lost control of herself and she knew I was watching her. A shower of stubs, wads, Certs, money, coupons, receipts, tampons, hair clips, trash, and lint flew across the Volkswagen's hood. Susan shrieked again. She picked up a rock, threw it at me and (though she missed the window) actually hit the side of the house.

"She's going to stamp her foot," I thought and smiled when I saw her do it. I waved. I felt so mature, so grown-up. For years, I felt that I needed facts and information to understand people. I had only recently discovered the distinct advantages of thoughtful guessing.

Then she found her keys and I knew she was going to do that, too. She gunned the VW backwards out of the driveway and "whoosh" I said, making my hand do what the car did.