Poem for Beau

Happy birthday,
little boy Beau,
they could fill books
with the things
you don’t know.

You’ll learn a start
from your teachers
and then some more
down under
the bleachers.

You’ll learn to run
across a field
with your team and
opponents
on your heel.

You’ll learn of worlds
waiting in books
filled with magic
and secrets
if you look.

But all the words
up on the shelf
can’t teach you what
you’ll have to
live yourself.

Love that feels like
third degree burns,
joy, pain, and awe
will visit you
in their turns.

But I know you’ll
always get through
because I know
the people who
care about you.

I hope you learn
to ride a bike
and that you can
be anyone
that you’d like.

But there’s one thing
I’d always add,
be as much
as you can
like your old
mom and dad.

You Should See Me

You should see me 
in a tailwind, cresting a hill 
on my bike, shoulders sailing, 
light in my saddle, grass 
clippings on my cheeks, 
and an involuntary smile. 

You should see me 
forget the limits of what 
I deserve, accepting rich
goodness without 
embarrassment. 

You should see me
now.

Nameless

When I met you I said,
”that’s a name I could forget,”
and I’ve never had my bluff
called so hard.

I Was Burning

I was burning for something that felt
like flying, so I settled for fake and
we went indoor skydiving.

I was driving with my eyes closed,
the way I play poker, praying
for lucky turns.

I was empty except dreams,
where I wrote endlessly for the
soon-to-be-dead-to-me and the
already-dead-to-me.

I was always putting words
in your mouth one way
or another.

I was so afraid of being
misunderstood, I used an
analogy for everything.

I was the prick
in your broken heart
measuring contest.

I’m not any of that now.

To the beach

I’d take you to the beach
     (let me make it 
     crystal clear),           
but I’m afraid you’d fuck up
     how I like 
     to disappear.

I want to be transparent,
dissolve in
salt in sea,
and not embody
your physical
perception of me.

So if I seem
a little slow
with your invitation,
it’s just me trying
to forget this
entire incarnation.

Vehicle

Sometimes your job is just a vehicle
for your body to survive

and

sometimes your body is just a vehicle
for your consciousness

and

always your consciousness
is a gift, and a tool,
and a resource
you owe to
no one.

Innumerable

One hint of abandonment
and the same six traumas,
one mean joke
and the same six traumas,
one call with family
and the same six traumas,
one day without nutrition
and the same six traumas,
one drink too many
and the same six traumas,
one bad dream
and the same six traumas,
one hand in the wrong place
and the same six traumas.

When I’m ready to vomit
at the persistence of those
same six traumas,
I remember I can count them
on my fingers and six of anything
can be disarmed, made harmless
in the light of my
innumerable joys—

the smooth flight
of a new bike chain,
the fluid cursive
of a lover’s letter,
the third coffee
of a wide open day,

the light steps taken
in new running shoes,
the heavy canvas bags
after the farmers’ market,
the secondhand watch
that keeps perfect time,

the unexpected warmth
of a late winter afternoon,
the cold floral mist
of an early spring morning,
the new, green leaf
of a yellowing houseplant,

the glass of cold water
when the body is only asking
for cold water,
the full glass of wine
on a morning bedside table
because sleep came easily,
the complete relief
of four continuous minutes
with a quiet mind,

the deep sleep that turns
anxiety into understanding,
the right words that come
when they’re needed,
the makeshift bridge across
a hidden forest creek…

(To be continued
indefinitely.)

Jogging

I run faster
when I’m angry
with lead foot
muscle memory,
so if you’re driving
on the streets
of London tonight,
say a prayer
of gratitude
I sold my car.

40 Hrs

My manager once joked,
”Oh, Andrew can stay late,
no one loves him.”