Saturday, January 31, 2009

Little Italian Man's Journey

I know how the heart
of a man connects right to his balls
but in older men the connection weakens.

When I saw him alone
I realized how much
he needed her, the mind-prostitute.

He would pay
just to hear her rattle on,
a few smiles

and a sense of wish and need.
Now that she spurned him,
he'll have to find another.

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Ninety Seconds at KP





The little girl friend
takes a leap out of the bus
with her wirey fingers,
bare pale flesh against the cold.
Then he comes out
tall with his hoody almost
biblical. She takes a toke
of his cigarette and vanishes
jaywalking skillfully
across the avenue.

Then he turns
and I get a look at his face.
He is tall and lean
and those eyes
seem so unchanging,
still young but
eternally old, pupils
sunk low in the eye-display
as if resting.

Nothing was ever really right,
his eyes say. And nothing will
ever change. I must be cautious,
his eyes say. I must be
dangerous



Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Turning Point of the Story

Awakening from nights full of dreams
I'm not sure about consciousness.
Time slips and faces who have gone
predominate today.

Half recognized scenes,
bizarrly, oddly familiarly animate.
I nod at ghosts.
Sleep after sleep,

greet old friends
as if I were journeying back
after a war, hail farewell,
in part, rehearsing the future.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Conversation of Youthful Couple

She has a hole in her jeans
and they sit together so tight
on the bus bench
companions and friends.

Bus tickets at 11.95
he counts it out
well we can get some...
(I miss the words
but I feel the pinching of
pockets).

Small and young, huddled together
in the glass shelter against the cold.
Are you going to work he says.
No I can't work on zero sleep.
Well when I worked at McDonalds all night
I could and if you could do it there
you could...

We could go to your place.
We could if my dad wasn't...
You know she says
you didn't have to let them in.
The police can come in any time
they don't need a warrant. I didn't
want them to break down the door.

They just knocked and asked to come in
and I said ok.

Then I am blessed by the #45.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Oliver Twist's Friends

When you wait for buses
in the cold you have time
to contemplate wanting.

Come to think of it,
there was only one of us in the orphanage
who was able to ask for more.

Don't worry, I know
that we have become
a bunch of want nebbishes.

You look at us and say
nah, it's not
worth the trouble.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Tuesday

If you think the smiles
are for you,
they are not.
The smiles are cold,
designed to draw you
then use your
available hearing.

The smiles are tools
to open you,
you fall for them naturally.
The smiles generate hope
for things you cannot
really have.

It's just that
the world is cold and lonely
and never warms.
Company is illusion.

Rescue

Every day in Zellers,
I watch where they sit
and move to a place
out of ear shot.
The poor girl
talks a blue streak
about her mother and her health
and all her theories about crime.
She is a viewer of American
television and loves
murder.

I know her
from shopping in the mall.
She is a cleaner of tables.
At 35 years old,
She lives under the cobwebs
somewhere in the house of her mother
who doesn't let her go out.

They enter the cafe together
the unadorned blond
and the small balding man
whose english is broken by
a european tongue. He buys her
breakfast every day.
They sit opposite and he
listens to her stories.

And as she talks,
crashing through the silence,
she straightens her hair and
elaborates on her split ends.
I can see the heat of her womanhood
redden under her skin. She
moves with bright eyes
like a star.

Seeing Cats from My Life

At the end of the dream
the staff have emptied the room
and left me alone
with memories.

There is a bed and a chair
the TV is old but works ok.
I lay here
at the end of the dream
waiting in silence
re-playing memories.

No one can
hold my unholdable hand.
I am a recepticle
of memories.
I slip away into the dark
and wait for more
days fed by memories.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

Note to the Distracted

Yahoo, Earth
I'm being stolen away.
Soon I will be gone.
I'm throwing out my
rescue lines before I'm tugged off.
Yahoo! If you want me
you had better come
and haul me back.

Tides are
washing my eyes.
A machine is
writing formulas
for my hours. Soon
all my days will be claimed.

Halloo, world,
if you want me
before I vanish,
you'd better call.

Friday, January 09, 2009

Something About Mugs

Female mugs
should stay on the bottom
because male mugs
fit on top.

I just discovered this
after a lifetime of drinking coffee.

Monday, January 05, 2009

Lady with Sparkles on Her Shirt

I'm Zellers diner,
up-looker,
self-lift-hauler
peasant-bootstrapper,
spanked-downer,
flier
with low sky.
It's not every day
I meet someone
who wants to
make it easy.