Good poetry must come from linen closets
Where I found god
Good music
And fresh towels.

There are times
when I’m sitting in my closet
surrounded by love and laughter
and I feel great sadness for what is missing.
I am uninspired.

I am doubtful.
Should we talk like nothing happened
like you never said
what slipped from your lips
And I never cried through act one.

I see the elephant
It’s dancing the waltz

Once, while in line for coffee
An older man turned to me
And shared his own curtain-raiser
in a four line stanza 

she took away my innocence
and left the next morning
i never loved anyone after her
but i sure fucked a lot.  

Good poetry must come from tragedy.