My old trunk is filled with
Baby shoes,
   But no one knows to whom they belong,
Faded pictures,
Christmas ornaments,
Spectacles,
Watches that no longer work
Tarnished silver,
A tennis racket,
My mother's false teeth,
Embroidered napkins, I was saving for company,
And memories.

I clothe this trunk
   With vestments of spider webs
And warm it with white sheets,
   As one would cover furniture
      of one departed.
And eventually,
   The trunk is once again
      Forgotten.

Life is a carnival,
   Filled with amusement rides and comfort food.
      But, no matter how much fun I have today,
         There will only be an empty parking lot tomorrow.

That trunk is my lifeline to remember
   There was a carnival.

Feelings, warm, a summer breeze,
When you look at me.
Never thought I'd feel again,
Except for some cold despair.  
Til you came into my life  
And showed me that you care.

Feelings, cold, a winter blast,
Frightened, like the past.
It's knowing you're not near.
Certainly, I must confide.
I need touch, your summer waft,
To warm me  deep inside.

My red wagon, in my youth,
Kept things some thought quite uncouth,
Like fishing line, crawdad bait,
A model boat, old door plate,
Copper rupees from Nepal,
Ancient skull, an old softball,
And I still wish I had them all,
Those fine treasures of my youth.

Though years have past since that day,
I, again, still lug that dray,
But I often can recall,
All the stuff I used to haul.
Though no longer filled with junk;
I don't use it like a trunk.
This lesson I didn't flunk.
It's filled with my kids at play.

I want to rip off your packaging.  

I want to feast on you,
   gobble you up,
      pig out on you,
   and wolf you down.

I want your nourishment.  
   I want your refreshment.  
      Give me sustenance.  

I want to nibble on your appetizers
   and sip your wine.
      I want your snack.  
   I want to close my fingers around
      your strawberries and partake of you.  
I want to rummage your confections and
   lay waste to your delicatessen.  

This is not the time for delicate bites.
   This is not the time to diet.  
      I want handfuls of you.  
   I want to play with my food
      and lick the bowl
         for dessert.

I'm just one of the thousands
Of monkeys, who sit
At their keyboards,
Typing away,
   Typing away,
      Typing away,
Foregoing food, water,
   ***, and even love
      Typing away
         Typing away
Not to create some masterpiece
   Which will immortalize me
      Typing away
         Well, maybe that
But, it is my hope that in
   This typing away
      I could capture
         The most elusive of prizes:
             Truth

When I left,
I took your dreams,
Your laughter,
Your secrets,
Your memories,
Your love,
And left with only
Emptiness.

Ah, passion -
   That stay awake,
      Go-without-eating mania.
   What other feeling can
Make a person feel so alive?

Then, there is longing -
   That helpless sense of incompleteness.

Give me comfortable love -
   That gentle expression of companionship.
      Give me safe love,
         Free of juvenile fears and
   Exaggerated
Expectations.

But...
   Give me contentment
      Some other moment.