Finding the Light

Whenever something dark occurs,
it becomes more difficult to find the light.

Today my niece, Jenna, told me that her two friends
said that they didn't like her.  I told her,
but I do, though I knew it wasn't the same.
She is five and smiled, but it was a sad smile.

My friend Emily listens to sad songs every day.
She tells me they are beautiful,
even though they make her cry.

I would like to tell her that I understand, but
I'm not sure that she would believe me.
I have somehow become an old man
and it might seem peculiar if I were to say
colors are more vivid coming out of the darkness.

This week my 98 year old grandmother
lost her 93 year old sister.

I would like to tell my grandma not to worry,
that I love her and believe mortality is relative, that
my love of gardens is because of her influence,
and that of my grandfather on my Mom's side,

but we don't speak of these things.
Maybe I'll just call to talk about the weather
and assume she understands.  Maybe
I will tell her about Jenna and Emily.
I would like to help her find the light.

The Dude is 22.

The dude is 22 and continually pushing
his hair out of his right eye
while simultaneously talking shit.

His chief accomplishments to this point
are a C average, a job
delivering pizzas,

and a perfected belligerence
bordering on sociopathic
that he aims at all authority.

Even if he didn't have acne,
he would not be handsome.  Even so,
the dude thinks highly of himself.

What he lacks in looks and brains
he makes up for in angry sarcasm
and foulmouthed hooliganism.

Many people despise him, but
he shakes it off with heroic
American determination.