Nostalgic for You

cemetery flowers
© Flysnow | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

I never considered you more than a friend,
but time multiplied by distance reshapes
your face, mutates friends into obsessions,
molds love out of nothing, perverts the chaste.

Dreams photoshop your eyes a greener shade
as porn expands your breasts a couple cups.
Old songs reheard weave us into new fate
revised by porn with girls who have your butt.

I found you on Twitter again. Your tweets
praised Trump, raised guns for Ohio, teabagged
women and children. Were you always so sweet?
I never noticed. I never saw through masks.

My dreams now have you bind me, torture me
with whips and wax until I vote GOP.

The Forest for the Tree

Day 10 of the 2012 April PAD Challenge on WritersDigest.com.

I missed the forest for a tree, they said,
so I stepped out to survey the whole scene.
The emerald ocean gleamed with such prospects
I blinked–lost sight of what made that tree unique.
Seemed I could lean against another tree
and carve my name into its flesh until
stripped bare, then climb a fresher one now bloomed
with daisies, leave when they started to wilt.
When Autumn came, I found the reason why
my oak stood tallest among trees. The gleam
enthralling me lost glamour, fading with
the summer, but she remained evergreen
no matter the distance of the sun. I now
wander the wilderness in search of her
jaded glow but only see browner plains.
Perhaps I already plucked her bare too.