Hollywood Ending
You green-lit the story of my life
with no idea of the budget required,
the cast or so much as
page one of the script.
No book to base it on, no superheroes --
inspired by true events that were yet to unfold,
with only the bending of my knee that rainy night
rehearsed like a table-read.
Years later, and the credits are getting out of hand --
too many supporting roles and bit parts to count,
so much footage left on my memory’s cutting room floor,
and all those critics and reviews we’ve ignored.
We’re not really in a movie, of course,
but sometimes when you smile at me from the couch
I can almost hear the director calling ‘Action’ behind me,
and the scene that plays out is the kind a trailer merely teases.
Fair, and Square
You always win at Scrabble
because I haven’t merely words;
my mind races ahead to
things I want to tell you,
phrases and full sentences
that long to be read, not
tallied towards a score.
I have something to say,
rather than simply spell;
to me each letter sings
a note in a composition,
a brick that, in the building,
only becomes better once
it adds to something more.
And as much as I admire
the way you intersect two
words, with a single tile that
links like a friendly arm,
the best part is the thinking
I see written in your smile, the
kind this alphabet was created for.