The omelette winked.
I winked back.
Cheese melted like longing,
yolk glowed like a Paris sunrise.
Steam curled like secret letters,
herbs whispered in thyme’s accent.
I called it sunshine
It called me love.
We kissed on the toast until the butter blushed.
This was our love story
brief and buttery.

I chase offers like oxygen,
clip discounts with surgical hope,
trade dignity for bulk rice.
My wallet coughs coins like loose teeth
each swipe a prayer to the gods of clearance.

She cast her kite skyward, thread-thin,
rain stitched blessings into her wrists,
until she learned:
even prayers dissolve like dreams.

He lines the shot not just the cue,
His friend watches, wordless,
hands pressed to felt,
as if steadying the weight of lies.
***** scatter truths, regret in motion.
Pool, like love, isn’t won by aim
but by what’s left on the table when the lights go dim.

We had planned an escape
just like you plan field trips.
We had plastic bags filled with prayers
just like you have fruit stuffed baskets.

We don't say goodbyes like you do
we stare in eyes until cheeks get wet.
We don't hug like you do
we hold each other until there is breath.

We snugged into a car with seatbelts
just like you do on cushioned sofas.
We had mobile phones with camera
just like you to film living moments.

The car moved, counting steps
then it crawled counting shots.

We held hands to play Ring-a-ring o’ roses,
A pocket full of posies, A-tishoo! A-tishoo!
We all fell down, except me.
My fall lasted longer than my voice.

I called for help just like you all do.
I kept breathing like you all do.
I kept crying like you all do.

I died just like a prime number.
while you all were in slumber.

Ambition was cinched to our wrists
Responsibility was tightened to our throats
Discipline was buckled at the waist.
Love was tucked in close to the chest.

Anger was draped across our shoulders
Control was zipped into our steps.
Insecurity was wrapped around the feet.
Status was hammered into soles.

Manhood is a tightrope
balancing swagger and surrender.
Locker room bravado and
mirror-shadowed splendor.
Masculinity is a breastplate
earned in boardrooms or squad cars.
burnished by restraint and dented by doubt.

We are defined by either
Diamond cufflinks or steel handcuffs
Never in the calluses of bare hands.

They said, “Don’t run,” so I skipped instead,
With jellybeans bouncing over my head.
They said, “Don’t draw on the walls or floor,”
So, I painted a dragon that opened a door.

They said, “Don’t climb on the monkey bars,”
So, I built a ladder to visit the stars.
They said, “Don’t bounce on the bed,”
So, I moon-jumped with a helmet of thread.

They wrote their rules in black and red,
And taped them to my toaster bread.
But rules, you see, are made of rubber
They stretch and squeak and sometimes blubber.

So, if a rule feels much too tight,
Just twist it left or stretch it right.
And if it snaps and hurts your hand,
Slingshot it back to No-Rule Land.

Where rules are made of bubblegum,
And break themselves just for the fun.