June 12, 2017


Every day I wake up

seeing a little more,

like realizing Santa Claus

can't be real, or not believing 

those ridiculous stories

about how we got here.

It's not like I can't

accept the truth,

or that it's always

someone's fault.  Not at all.

I've always suspected

that new life

isn't just spontaneous combustion,

that love is somehow involved,

a mixture of just the right chemistry

and then, you know, boom,

here we are.

I'm pretty sure it was like that

with my mother and father,

because Mom is forever

trying to get us

to go to bed early.

I don't really know

exactly what happens,

but I'm going to find out,

all of it still a big mystery,

to me.