What I Ask The Stars Upon Laying Down

In a world

full of mysteries

pondered by

far greater men,

greater minds 

than I will 

ever have,

I remain 

steadfastly
oblivious.

I cannot explain

God

or even say 

that I have

not doubted.

Why is there

war,

famine,

children  whose

only company

is painful
abuse?

Am I small

then, 

that I sit back

quietly after

a couple of 

beers 
and wonder 
what it is 
that makes

one person 

fall in love

with another?

What it is 

then,

that would

make her see 

something in

me?

She is beauty.

A princess of

jazz, raised 
at the feet 
of it's greats.
A player
of roles and
singer of songs,
the most 
positive person
I've known.


She is
all Ojai,
and trips
to the beach, 
flash-popping
slow strolls
at red carpet
events and 
slightly disappointed 
that her new
vegan lifestyle
means no more
foie gras in
France.



I am ugly.

The son of
a farmer, 
childhood
shared shoulder
to shoulder
with five 
other kids for
whom work
meant bent backs
and blistered 
hands.


I am the
saddest man
I know, and I 
couldn't shake
the South from 
me if I wanted.
I hunted deer
in my youth,
still love a rare
steak.
I drink beer 
from the can and
did time in
the joint
for a while.


What is it
then,
that the universe
uses to 
decide who
will fall in love
with whom,
that is the 
question
that keeps me
awake. What
makes two
people 
soul-mates?

And what does
she see in me?