Hey.
Here's another new (again - new for non-Patreon folk) poem. You should really hop on this gravy train! 10 bucks a month gets you your own monthly poem, one buck a month gets you DAILY curated stuff I make... GO!
This poem's a snapshot of my childhood. Poor as we were, we had some great summers sometimes.
This was one of them. I've written before about how games shaped our family. Here's a brief window into that devotion.
Here's another new (again - new for non-Patreon folk) poem. You should really hop on this gravy train! 10 bucks a month gets you your own monthly poem, one buck a month gets you DAILY curated stuff I make... GO!
This poem's a snapshot of my childhood. Poor as we were, we had some great summers sometimes.
This was one of them. I've written before about how games shaped our family. Here's a brief window into that devotion.
FAMILY
Three children sleeping across a Monopoly set.
A note squats on Free Parking, impatiently scrawled with a magic marker:
Weenie's Turn. Dozing without blankets.
A thick sheen of sweat coating their syrupy cheeks.
Discarded Slurpee cups, a Little Caesar's
Pizza box, A radio (won in an costume contest), still lightly playing, set to
"Kara's Love Line". And, as these siblings dream,
A caller (Charlene) with a catch in her midnight speaking voice
Dedicates
A song to her husband
(Rafael) serving overseas in Japan.
Kara, the sensual DJ, hums to life. She soothes,
Each word caresses the evening air. A little pause, and Heatwave's
"Always and Forever" cradles the sleeping trio.
There, until morning, these children remain.
Stuffed with romance and sugar and paper money.
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