Don't Put the Things You Use the Most in the Back of the Fridge

I pour my coffee,
hunt for half-and-half,
which is in the back 
of the boat fridge.

Among the calm that comes
from the chaos of daily life,
are you searching for what really matters?

Eyes are clued,
but morning mind is running.
Hands are in stoned rest
but lonely, hunting heart is stressing.

My heart was starved.
My mind is assailed.

Searching for peace in disruption.
Searching for the home
in all broken heart.

Searching for the things
that don't ever last.
Searching for the human
who can remember my eyes.

Dear mind, I know
you are assailed by doubts,
but why do you always give birth 
to ifs and buts?

Dear heart, I know 
you are starving
but why are you searching love
in rocks and dead souls.

Hiding in California,
hoping to heal,
betting on the future
and to find something real.