...knee-jerk hysterics...

its true about the ice

that you can't see how and exactly

when it becomes that slippery

slide that bumps you into the sides

of streets and students      slates between

the cities and the songs

we used to sing in crowded

arenas with hand-knit scarves

and grandma's hats, perhaps

her sunglasses, more likely

her joy in watching someone

bust ass on the slippery

ice on a northern Queens

still frozen night.

She told me she once danced

at the Roseland Ballroom

when it was still this, a ballroom.

I told her I danced there

too but not like she did

and that I was wearing

grandpa's scarf. And that

I fell and busted up my knee.

(She chuckled)

(I said that I meant to do that)

...winter's shell...

tell me

what you are

wearing

so I may 

gauge how cold 

we both are

...found phrase...

I had lost this phrase

for nearly eight years

until today's words

help guide them back

through ensuing tears:

I am American.

...44...

the history of this day

starts the realization

and activation 

that begins 

tomorrow

...rearview...

in the red mini

you took off like a laser

then slowed down 

to a smile before 

you shot off again

and out of my

field of view

the weather 

wasn't conducive 

to our conversation

nor were the traffic

lights on our side

the window

fog didn't help that 

   either

...soft focus...

in the angle 

you present  the wall

is just out

of reach

and we lean

against our new satin

finish         running

our hands over it's silken surface

the angle

I choose to present

         eyeing 

each stroke

and each extension

the corners 

you try to fill

with the metal edge

of your trowel

the curves you create

                           and I witness

...transformer...

the long pause

between each breath

is the day turning

to night and the thought

that keeps us there

...dance song...

if you fight with me

I'll tell you a story

about the last one

who fought me 

knocked me down

and come undone

...eye for a life...

you speak of the rules of engagement:

suicide bombings, IEDs, civilian casualties, etc.

What about this rule? If I throw a rock

at you, you may throw a rock back at me.

Please. I welcome it. You may get an eye

for an eye. A few teeth.  Nose broken symbolism.

But, if I throw a rock, and you launch a full

aerial assault and ground invasion,

laser guided devices and tanks

versus primitive bottle rockets and roman candles,

what is my rock to do?  What shall

I aim for? You have left me one target

and that is anything that exists on the other side

of the border, anything, that my rock may

inflict damage upon, that it may reach, blindly. 

And this is a history of violence, something learned,

this is a last ditch chance to keep my home

and my family safe. Please. Engage me. 

Talk to me. Do not simply take away

what little I have and what was once

taken from you. This must be acknowledged.

Neither of us can be victors, here.

...upper respiratory...

when the neti-pot

won't break through

you know the infection

is solidified and staying

longer than it is welcome

(get going would ya?)

...new year's girl...

first, the little bus was a hinder

then, the little boy who wouldn't dance

we both shared a few flashes

the bulbs blew brights and green

a light shared, a deep inhale

and the exhale close to the ear

speaks over the speakers

directly to the space where

one forgets to ask the right

questions and do the right

research so that the night

extends itself past what

the clock imagines for us

(where did you go, Jennifer from Dallas?)