If home is where the heart is, then my home is you.  It’s as true as it is sappy and cliché.  Even my parents’ house, the blue one on Clover Street, that used to be tan with dark red shutters, with the beech tree out back I still sometimes climb into to sit and read, the antlers on the shed now broken off, the one that held my childhood, feels more like home with you in it.  Even the car ride to take you back to your house, singing the whole hour-and-a-half, feels like home until you open the front passenger door and wave goodbye, holding my heart at home, with you.


Controlled Chaos – Or – Friday in Mr. Schatter’s Second Grade Room

For Andy Schlatter and his 2017-’18 students.  Thank you for letting me join in the fun.

Finish your breakfast
come to the rug
tell me good morning
I’ll say it with love

Time for math
we’ve finished our game
check with your friends
are the answers the same?

Off to the library
a story and books
if you can’t find it
the teacher knows where to look

Read by yourself
or read with a friend
some always wish that
reading would end

Empty classroom
lunch is bliss
but I wouldn’t wish for
a whole day of this

Out to the playground
the kids scream and run
it’s outdoor recess
and we’re all having fun

Until somebody pushes
and the other one shoves
and someone ends up
with wet muddy gloves

Back inside
to sit at our desks
quiet music plays
as we let our brains rest

Then to the rug
where without fail
read aloud promises
a very good tale

Writing is next
though some try to delay
they complain about
writing nonfiction today

PE is next
the kids run in the gym
no matter the game
they all want to win

Tired and hungry
it’s finally snack
there’s only one juice
and they all want it bad

The last thing we do
at the end of the day
is free choice time
and everyone plays

Time to clean up
it’s a quarter to three
but nobody listens
or seems to hear me

Ring the chime
and wait for their eyes
listen and smile
as the noise slowly dies

Three o’clock-ish
we walk out the door
the chairs are all stacked
and we’ve picked up the floor

Parents and siblings are
waiting outside
some of the kids
have to go wait inside

Back to the classroom
the end of my day
it’s all just controlled chaos
but I wouldn’t have it any other way.


Walk with me
in the twilight
in the not quite day
the not quite night

Be with me
something closer than friends
but not quite in love
and we’ll take this road
one step at a time
walking in the twilight.

The Archives

Sitting alone on
a bar stool
looking out the
garage door window
of the arcade
watching the snow fall
lazilly drifting
to the streets

My one drink
paid for
a silly excuse
for a bar tab
waiting for my dad
to come take me home
sipping water

The fairy lights on
church Street
twinkling like
as I sit
talking with you
so many miles away
hoping you’ll
still be awake
when I get home

How a Mathematician Falls in Love

I’d like to
take a compass
and measure
the circle
my arms make
around you
to see how small
the space is
we take up

I’d find the equations
of the functions
for the parabolas
your arms make
hooked under mine
your hands pressed
tight against the
imperfect triangles of
my shoulder blades.

I’d trace the
plane of your
back as I
held you close
the distance between us
the line where your
lips meet opening
to elipses
when touched with the
pressure of my own.

I’d learn the
geometry of
your body
every curve
every line
every angle
until I found
proof in your
of the ways we
fit together
so perfectly.

I’d count each
beat of my heart
in my chest
as your head rested
against it
the calm
steady pace
a measurement for
how long I’ve
loved you.