Puppy tears through the deep powder
like a tractor-puller at the county fair.

my snow pants, Columbia Titanium, ear muffs and thick boots
enable me to not mind one little bit.

running in his wake
I’m laughing all the way….

I want guacamole and refried beans
    left off my dinner plate

I prefer Special K
    in every scotcheroo

Silk stockings
    must drape across my candled nightstand

I want 400 rpms revving
    my engine’s manifold come daybreak

Henceforth, spider stew
    shall be leached from my intestines

I’d love to see gauzy halos
    atop every world

electric-blue daisies
scatter across lycra and lace
she shields her eyes
from the morning’s glory

languid sighs contemplate every contour
of her spurious waste
too many years having left her
censured, unmoored

she feigns a coy gesture
removes her chemise
her halleluiah chorus oozes crisp clarity
ill-fitting decorum now unrestrained

exquisite bell-tones of make-believe
sublime realities come true at last
rhapsodies of love
reignite in smoke-purple rooms

Suncatchers blind commuters on the sour streets of New Haven
as frogs croak wildly at 2 AM

Nylons slither down my scrawny legs
in obeisance to gravity

Mother’s glasses sit askew on her aquiline nose
after too many Mai Tai’s in the pre-dawn light

And you wonder why the mechanisms of Wall Street
interest me not in the least?

No red ribbon
for the braids in my hair

No tucking in at night
with milk, warm bread and jam

No cheerful eyes of adoration
to power my day

No soothing words
or gentle caresses

No fiery passion for purple dogs
colored well within the lines

No standing O’s for grade school concerts
you were never there

What I don’t got

A mother’s love, warmly given

Love proffers shelter
in the exquisite softness
of December’s lingering light
while fading footsteps,
metaphors for loss,
disengage from the artifice of angst —
harsh truths capsized
amid heaving hearts —
as amore
once strident and intent
cries out,
brilliant and courageous,
I am with you still.

You loved your mama
through her piercing sorrows
those manic joys, those ill-considered choices
those spun-on dreams of finding love
in deceitful cold hearts wed to despicable hot hands.

All this while
your own sweet soul was pure
your generous warmth
held mama close
loving her, cherishing her.

Bliss should have been her mantra
for you were so innocent and kind
you loved her so, regardless.

Mama knows that now
sees that now
feels it now
every day
she cannot undo what was done
she cannot envelop
the boy you were then
into her grateful arms
to hold you for an eternity.

Had she only done more…

All she can do
is love you now
and yet
your love still pours forth
your colorful recollection of those gray-stock days
tinged with fondness, good cheer and gratitude.

Mama cannot comprehend
how she came to deserve
the stellar son you were then,
the fine young man you are today.