What Do You Like?

Have you ever been asked a question, and after you answered, you thought — hours later, of course — of all the things you could have said instead of what you actually answered? No? I have. It’s annoying as hell. Sometimes you only have that one moment in time to offer a snapshot image of yourself to the person expecting an answer. 

It happened to me recently, and later the same day I had that silly song in my head…the one from that movie from forever ago…was it The Sound of Music? You know the song, “These are a few of my favorite things…”

So…this happened. The photos included are also a few favorite things/people/situations as well, because why not? 


The voice was soft and insistent

And the question was easy enough.


“What do you like?”


It slipped in, between my ears

and bounced down, through the oubliette bars

and my first response was the safe response,

the easy kind…a kind of bump and grind

because I’m wired to cause a smile, sometimes.


And later, the question haunted me, a little,

because I had not answered enough; it’s entirely too tough a question…


Easy is relative, maybe based on laziness, or greed

Unanswered questions linger, and the last thing I need is

for my own words to slip up and trip me up.


“What do you like?”


miles and miles of empty roads, built for talking,

the spontaneity that happens when like minds connect,

paintings forgotten in dust-covered thrift stores

secrets entrusted to me, to protect


bad jokes, and good ones, and the ones in-between

double entendres bordering on the obscene, and also

things that make me teary-eyed

because I would rather feel than to be dead inside


“What do you like?”


ice cream and cake, every once in a while

the sound of the rain as it beats against glass

the notion that everything happens for a reason

and the other one, the idea that “This too shall pass.”


solitude, and people, and silence in general

and deafening noise that makes me feel lost

and pushing the envelope when mayhaps I shouldn’t

and the consequences that happen when lines get crossed


“What do you like?”


I like fear and sadness; I like shock and awe,

the weakness that happens after a moment of rage,

the overwhelming certainty that the story continues

long after I’ve turned and read the last page.


…ideas that inspire me, memories haunting

bad karaoke and good bands at night,

and explosions contained, and desire, and wanting

and knowing the difference between wrong and right…


“What do you like?”


I kinda dig dubstep…all music, for that matter

and the way bodies react to the increase in sound

 I like funny movies, and sad films, and splatter

hiding eyes from the gore, but still peeping ‘round


I like fishing, and hiking, and moonlight, and trouble

and pure thoughts and carnal ones, and ridiculous memes

I like the way my teeth feel against three-day stubble

and the fact that no matter what, most things are not what they seem


“What do you like?”


I have answered, and answered, and still there is more.

My fingers are stained with ink from this writing.

The pages are beginning to slide to the floor

but the question is now just so damned inviting…


I would like to think I’m generous, and giving

and that’s why I’m telling you all of these things.

What do I like?

I just like living.

I like experiencing all that Life brings.


5 thoughts on “What Do You Like?

  1. This is such an awesome piece. It’s so beautiful how you are able to express and envelop us in your words, how you make us reflect and feel…we see your ideas and your world, through your eyes yet it personally resonates and connects with us as your audience. We get to experience and interpret the simple as well as complex journeys you weave through our minds. I love it. It made me happy, took me on a journey, and most importantly it made me see and think of all the different awesome shit that I like in this crazy fucked up world lol but life can be and is absolutely exquisite ❤ Well done!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. “the overwhelming certainty that the story continues

    long after I’ve turned and read the last page.”

    That is a wonderful feeling… I love that. And I love this poem.

    Liked by 1 person

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