Paper and Pen

As I look back, some of my greatest moments have been

when I was inclined to court only me

so once again, paper and pen seem to be my thing

Forced inside by life to remain clean

while the World outside my window is alive

with sights that only my mind could bring

Crisp in my step yet molasses of mood

I don’t get dressed except for the occasional Zoom

and even then, it’s a pressed shirt with no need for shoes

I’ve practiced my lines and I await my turn

my mute button blocking all feedback that burns

A village dive, not quite café,

the vibe of my kitchen avec la brise

A shimmering curtain hides my wandering eye

A bird sings softly to remind me it’s Spring

Not far from my window is a field full of green

with thriving pollen, mosquitos, chiggers and mites

But they can’t defend its unforgettable stream

from my Cancerian desire to sit there soaking in sunlight

I’m just daring enough to put my feet inside,

too many lifeforms for me to submerge my locs

I’ve never worn a watch so I’m always disturbed

when someone passes with the sound of “Tick. Tock.”

Brown hawks in the air floating in stasis

stomachs full of despair as they scan the small spaces

I’m a warrior King, with more than one tribe

and everything I sense is an extension of my life

The smell of the street pierces through the sublime

My vision is paused and I’m back in real-time

remembering the city where I’ve chosen to live

my area, a new hot-spot for a virus none should forgive

Infecting and killing like slow beats on a drum

we march now in unison, our World mourns as one

Every red light showcasing cars full of culture

with music blasting in languages from all four of Earth’s corners

Subliminal dripping from a pamphlet on torture

I turn towards my sink and scream bloody horrors

“I’m sharing my story hoping someone can feel me!”

then my neighbor hits her ceiling and now my moment is reeling

Back on track, I hum to the rhythms that make my hips move

Thanking God for this curtain when I can’t find the groove

mocking, my windows shake to the bass

I pray they won’t break while so close to my face

I place my hand on the glass and sense the vibration

the snippets quenching my thirst for a radio station

The basil I’m growing on my windowsill is in full bloom

and I’m pulled into the smell of its freshness

The waves are like hues of oil and nuts and the salivating begins,

and as if I need another distraction,

here comes the thought of dinner with no friends

Party of One, but many others on my mind

Again I notice the birds, perched and scanning from vines

like out of a movie when vultures are biding their time

they find their target and swiftly descend in a line

claws out with a screech to distract their prey

I’m intrigued so I watch them consume the cuisine of the day

My Groupon for Yoga still can’t be used

I breathe deeply and bend slightly, hoping for clues

When we’re all back outside the World better beware

I won’t have any fear to keep me from getting my share

The place of destiny, my vision, my goal

What once eluded me will finally be under control

Full days like this pass standing here looking out

One folds into the next without so much as a shout

paper and pen help me organize time

allowing me to capture these days of lost life