Notes on a (Coffee) Napkin

April 7, 2016. Caribou Coffee, MSP International airport.Notes on a Bar Napkin

You brushed past me this morning
bumped my shoulder
spilled steaming coffee on my hand.

You didn’t look back
but your frantic worry is scalded into my life now
the way the heat blistered the sensitive skin
between my thumb and forefinger.
The burn still itches

but I hope you caught your plane.


New Year’s Revolutions

December 31, 2015. Lola’s Lakehouse.Notes on a Bar Napkin

We’ve traveled tremendous distances
across a vast abyss, to circle around a star.
It took us three hundred and sixty-five days,
only to end up where we started.
New Year’s resolutions are like this,
endless circles around who we wish we could be.
Even though the shortest distance between
who we are and what we want
is a straight line.
We circle.
We go through motions.
We compromise.
We bow to status quo.
We lose our footing.
We stop moving.
We stop being.
We stop being ourselves.

What if, instead,
we say:
“This year, I will walk the shortest distance.”


Arizona (a love letter)

July 17, 2015. CASA Lounge.Notes on a Bar Napkin

I will never forget
These sweet nights
These nights of rhythm
of rhythm and sway –
The music is under my skin
Under my skin and in
my bones –
The music is permanent
because of you.
You grasp a piece
of my heart
My heart and you never knew
you held it.
And this
This heart bursts
Under the haze
The cloying haze
of a desert summer
And I reach
I reach
So far
So hard
And never
Can never
Will never grasp
What this all meant.
But I love
I love
all the same.



Observations in Reading Terminal Market

Notes on a Bar NapkinJune 4th, 2015.
Molly Malloy’s. Reading Terminal Market, Philadelphia. 

Spicy hops of golden goodness slip past my teeth
In a strange little corner of a pulsing chaos
stretching a full city block.
Stuck in between magical places called
The Tubby Olive and Head Nut,
Facing down the neon sign glare from one of thirteen cheese shops,
This beer tastes like the promise of salty snacks and good decisions
to follow.
And in the throb of bustling commerce,
The ebb and flow of a thousand conversations,
I can finally relax.