Selected Poems

My Boy Blue

Blue is blue, Caspian Sea Blue to be exact, a brilliant hue more tantalizing than a lapis stone expertly cut and presented in a showcase in the gem room at the Natural History Museum on Exposition. Each edge shimmers as shards of sunlight slice through it with a jealous rage because it’s blue is bluer than any blue sky ever photographed. The shallow blue pacific waters lapping at the white silky sand on Kauai’s North Shore...very blue, but if we are being completely honest, my boy Blue is bluer. Dodger blue is close I’ll admit, but once again, Blue is bluer dripping like fresh cobalt blue oil paint on a Van Gogh canvas.

My dad had Dodger blue eyes that could put you in a trance. I would encourage him to wear bright blue shirts so that his eyes would POP. He would thank me sheepishly as if he was 4 years old. He was 75 or 80 or maybe 83...

When Blue is not so blue, speckled in muddy brown caused by an unusual California rainfall dusty with remnants of ash drifting in from the recent fires inland, I don’t have the same swagger in my step as I approach my baby. Blue can make me feel, well Blue, when he’s not so Blue.

I feel young, successful, good about myself around Blue.

Sunroof open today...definitely...sunroof open.