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I used to covet things.

Physical tangible possessions
new clothes, jackets, shoes
magazines, CDs, books and DVDs
drawers and closets jammed tight
tunes and words not yet absorbed.

I have plenty and then some.

Will I live the years necessary
to enjoy all that I’ve accumulated?

Will my ROI pay ample dividends?

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I’m rocked
by your splendor.

Tears gather strength,
seeking release.
A choke in my constricted throat
as I’m overwhelmed
(and humbled)
by the raw power
you exude
at every twist and juncture
of this crazy road
as higher
and higher
we drive
into a world
and a creation
as alien and sparse
as Jupiter’s landscape
to wandering Neptunians.

You enthrall
and terrorize me.
I’m captivated
and frightened.
I’m bewitched.

Switchbacks
and drop-offs.
Cold feet
amid hairpin turns.
My four chambers
ratcheting wildly.
Nothing else matters
at this moment.
You make me aware
of what it means to be alive.

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Pizza oozing,
enticing,
bursting
with temptation
certain to both
sate and deflate
with every glorious
bite.

Thick crust or thin
(thin, please)
mozzarella
parmesan
(lots of it)
basil and oregano
spicy Italian sausage
pepperoni
crispy capicola.

Flavorful? Oh, my.
Yes,
she says
wiping the drool
while simultaneously
dreading
the cholesterol check
she’s put off for too long.

Daily Prompt: Flavorful

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She’s a hard woman to like
let alone love.

I know I should try harder.

She is weak, manipulative
and lacking in charm.
She is joyless and self-pitying
and worries about
every. little. thing.
On steroids.

I should be more caring, more tolerant.
Patience is not my strong suit.
It would be easier to show sympathy
if she were someone pleasant,
someone cheerful, someone fun.

But no. Instead, she is the dullest person
on the planet.
I’m pretty darn sure of it.
And seems content to inflict her misery on the rest of us
instead of making her own way,
finding her own happiness.

Yes, I suppose I should be more kind
but damn if she doesn’t make it
almost impossible to care.

Daily Prompt: Sympathy

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I’m no poet
apparently
and I do know it;
even my shoe size fails me
(I’m a six).
I entered the hallowed halls
filled with promise
and anticipation.
The kings and queens before me,
they did not disappoint.
It was I who fell short,
inadequacy my trademark.
Bluster, my ill-fitting coat of arms.
Humbled and chastised,
my trailing tail coiled between
the two legs I did not even
have to stand on,
I’ve chosen to retreat.
Perhaps one day
I’ll fight again.