You came...For Deya (April 28th poem)

You came into my life

On a soft wind
In the height of summer

Sweltering
My breath caught
In yours
Melted

You evaporated one day
Rain on the sidewalk

But I will never forget

Walking the streets of New York
Hand in hand all night
Trying not to get wet

Survival, Part I (April 27th poem)

Before it happens

Nobody tells you

That this is what

Survival looks like

This is the ugly

Underbelly of triumph

That the champion's life

Has a seedy side:

Sloppy with sweat

Stinking with fear

Ugly not elegant

That its

Usually greasy not graceful

More than you asked for

Than you wanted

Less than you can handle

But not pretty either