Pictures

Late at night I'm poetic
I should be sleeping but somehow can't
Can't give in, can't shut down, can't let the head settle
Instead I write poems like beatniks
Except not good

I love you isn't roses
It's midnight trips to Meijer
Where I look for a birthday card for my mom
while you grab coffee beans
(which let's be honest is the real reason
it couldn't wait till morning)

You meet me in the card aisle with
a basket full of coffee
That is love, I think now.

Today I changed my profile picture from
the one of me and my grandma
at my grad school graduation
I never liked myself in it, my face is
so chubby
But she looked beautiful
Almost handsome, Katherine Hepburn-ish
And it's the only picture I can find of the two of
us together
Why did I not get more pictures of me with my grandma?

At some point I had to take it down
No use dragging it out
Taking it down doesn't take her out of my heart
or my head, or my memories, or my awakeness

I replace it with a picture of me in Sonoma
Wine-drunk and sunburnt
Grinning at Michael from a wooden platform
on the Russian River