Poetry - Good Time Danny

He has learned supposedly

To emote without volcanic uprisings

He is so tender and loving and attentive

Like the grid work of wrinkles

That cover his face towards the inside

Through cracks of affection

Glimpses of honesty

Maybe this is frightening

And auras become tainted

With ago and an unkind family

They are dusty grey

Inhaling this makes you sneeze

Your eyes smart and

You twitch where you want to least

An anthrax sifting through the air

Carried in Persian rug existence

His and mine seeking

To infect all that is good

Black tepid auras settled around him

I could read cards

I could read tea leaves

I couldn’t read him

“How are you”

“Oh okay, good, fine”

The one who wakes in darkness and fear

Until morning medication

He does not talk

He does not want to talk

I can read other people well

Some so well it scares them

Or they think I possess powers

Of the occult

Him. My partner of three years

The man with the smiley face

Good time Danny in another life