When straying from writing about my wife or kids
I’m instantly cognizant of something.
These are my muses I’m leaving
for a second, of course,
but for territory off the beaten path.
is no stranger for sure, fundamentally my brother
Yet he doesn’t inhabit my space these days
my routine day to day.
We meet at Ghost River
and my bubble trails off
the routine of clocking in and out
washing my children while singing Baby Beluga
pouring the wine and sitting down
with Friday Night Lights
and I think “Oh yea. You!”
I don’t even have to remember you
for best friends are like family.
By default, their name comes to mind
every time you think over your story.
And just like Sammy
my childhood dog for twelve years
whose scent is practically engrained in my nostrils,
the warmth of your presence
the memories of your apartment porch
catty corner Firedog
the Corner Market on 13th
intoxicate my spirit.