THE FIRST STEPS

1.
    I've lit the fire
    and find it takes longer each year
    to warm this body
    to a temperature it agrees with
    and finds comfortable.
    It's raining
    and has been for days.

    And if the weather man
    is to be believed at all

    I may need more
    than the six logs
    I have neatly stacked
    on the front porch.


2.
    Sitting here
    under this friendly Hawai'i an sun
    I think of the many
    Melbourne and San Franciscan winters
    this body has weathered.

    Even now
    the warm rays
    are healing
    all those cold wet days.

    I keep asking myself than
    what sanity there is
    in riding a jet plane tomorrow
    back to the cold,
    the wet,
    and a routine that's grown so familiar
    that even my neighbors
    could plan
    my entire day.


3.
    I've pondered over ways
    of winning
    time with you.

    I've even bought
    a lottery ticket.
    But that would only give me
    a sports car
    and a three story house
    in Pacific Heights,
    Lafayette,
    or wherever.

    And one
    in a small, fast car
    was not what I had in mind.

    I even thought
    of taking
    a pocket full of dimes
    to the County Fair.

    And if I was
    to land one dime
    on just the right square

    would that win your company?

    Kewpie Dolls
    and pink fluffy elephants
    I can take or leave.


4.
    This month
    is not of my choosing.
    Here
    there are children,
    smiles,
    and hands being held.

    A month like this
    only serves to remind me
    that I too
    ran and skipped in summers
    not unlike this.

    And if there was
    a hand to be held
    I was guilty too
    of doing that.


5.
    I didn't call your name aloud
    from crowded squares.
    Nor did I advertise
    a vacancy
    within my already vacant life

    but you came
    all the same.

    During your stay
    I explored
    and mapped areas
    of your body with such detail
    that Columbus himself
    would have approved.

    Now
    in your absence,
    you teach me to ponder
    over why you've gone.
    To lay awake at night
    and conjure up
    the memories and charts
    you left behind,

    and ponder still some more.


6.
    Your name
    and your anatomy
    have rhymed
    and somersaulted
    in my mind
    for the best part
    of this year.
    I've found it hard
    to focus on things
    that are not within ten feet
    of you
    -more difficult still
    to concentrate on words
    that don't include
    or sound like your name.

    And now,
    having loved you
    this month of November
    I worry at times
    for and about you.

    Are you cold at night?
    Than let my body
    cover you
    as lightly as it can.

    Can I cook you
    a pan of biscuits
    or stack your wood
    upon the porch?

    Call if you need,
    because I envy
    and fear the person
    with a lighter
    and warmer
    body than mine.


7.
    The day comes
    and the day goes

    it does.


    Look just left
    and you can see it.

    Look just right

    and you
    will see me.


    JULY MAN

    A July birth
    was not of my choosing.

    But
    had I been born another month,
    another week,
    or even a different day
    I fear I could not
    have reached this moment     here,
    now,
    with you.

    All roads
    may lead to Rome,
    but only one
    I'm sure
    was my road to you.

    Because of this

    I'm content
    to remain a July man.


8.
    Run to my house
    you children of the sun.
    With freckled faces
...