Most women are cooks But a man who cooks Is a chef She cooks over and over To feed the masses

If I could paint a man Eyes so dark they shine Brooding and stormy Til the smile breaks through If I could paint a man

To be genius means To not follow the rules You don’t have to I wish to be smart But not self-important

Does the world need Another book? Another poem? I add one more to the pile To be left alone

We Are me and you Together Two hearts Two minds

My parents always say We’re proud of you I am too I got out of bed I used to get so much done

Who am I? I am me When did I Become me? As I recall

When the emotion comes up It feels like heartburn Like acid Clenching my throat My ears go watery

He says I could never Get away with murder For I leave Pieces of me everywhere

Bags full of diapers Cars waiting in line Smell coming from the load Ashamed it was mine He noticed my insulin pump