To pose for pictures,

we hid our faces in balloons

bouncing off one another from the breeze.

Their colors were a box of crayons.

Holding them, it felt that the correct gust

would lift us for the treetops beneath

to tickle the balls of our feet!

The exploding children

swelling in excitement

begged to play with the giant floating balls.

Josie was barely two,

Edie was safe and curious,

Mitch and Brody still wrestling.

Myles would have turned 28 that day.


Each one of us released

a balloon in his remembrance;

silence ensued as they became

silhouetted dots against the stirring sky,

which broke in laughter when Josie

waved up, yelling, “bye balloons!”


Ice Cream Sunday



Two lovers on an ice cream Sunday

observing from the cherub fountain’s rim:


An open bar roars with cheer of sport.

A kite tail entwined in power lines.

A sparrow examining the cement sidewalk blocks.

A beggar in tree shade with a brown bag.

A parallel park impressing college students.

A hymn bellowing from the bell tower.

A paper towel, wadded, stained in primary colors.

A tree releasing seeds like floating cotton generating

A faux snow.

A wafting scent of blooms and fried foods.

A sweat bead forming through the cheek.

A satiation appeased.

A rolled up yoga mat bouncing on the shoulder of

A tightly dressed woman.

A euphoric bee lost in the comforts of its flower.

A small graffiti depicting

A lotus blossom.

A confidence mudra formed by her left hand

A pen twisting in his right –


Their other two entwined like sea and shell

and the sun which warms them.

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