Tuesday, May 30, 2017


Run-run-run-boom!  Run-run-run-boom!
He chases after the mouse.
Run-run-run-boom!  Run-run-run-boom!
He races across the house.
Run-run-run-boom!  Run-run-run-boom!
It’s funny because he’s furry.
Run-run-run-boom!  Run-run-run-boom!
Go to bed now, Murray!

Monday, May 29, 2017

Around and Around

I ran afar to far off lands, to be near the waves of blue.
It was wrong to wrong her so.  Now I know this to be true.

So I came back.  She took me back.  And we went forth again as one.
Each day I rose, gave her a rose, and we fell in love and fun.

Then she left and I was left on the right side of the town.
I moved uptown to measure up, but I still was feeling down.

How could she go and go away?  And will she ever come again?
Around November, she came around, but I still feel so much pain.

So now we’re here and here we’ll stay, and there is nothing much to do.
As a set we’ll watch the sunset as we yield to love anew.

Saturday, May 20, 2017

Tear Me Apart

No cuddles,
No kisses,
No whispers in the dark.

And all that
I miss is
That indefinable spark.

I push them
Away with
A choice erroneous.

Just choosing
To stay with
Neglect and loneliness.

The prayer, it
Is coming
As soon as I am done.

Wish I could
Stop running
And chasing all the fun.

The death and
Disease, I
Just long for them to go.

So here is
My reply:
Please cleanse me of my woe.

My soul, I
Can feel it
Above my eyes and heart.

Oh Lord, won’t
You seal it?
With grace tear me apart.

Tuesday, May 16, 2017

She Is ...

She is there.
There and close and smiling at me.

She is golden.
Golden and bright and lovely.

She is sharing.
Sharing and understanding and  empathy.

She is soft.
Soft and warm and fitting perfectly into me.

She is time.
Time and again and every morning and every night.

She is secrets.
Secrets and doubts and hidden places.

She is pulling away.
Pulling away and coming back and pulling away again.

She is gone.
Gone and I miss her and she never was mine.

Saturday, May 13, 2017

The Future of Her Past

A jazz tune jumping from
The old brick walls downtown.
She heels her heels to mind.
Not sure she’s heard  the sound.

Eyes bigger than her head.
She turns to see the sign.
Beauty caught in wonder.
Her world now realigned.

A tear caught on her cheek.
Her rusty visage marred.
A pause to leer at doubt.
Then down into the bar.

He plays the answers out.
Of questions never asked.
As she steps back into.
The future of her past.

Though somewhere in the sun
They gave each other grace.
There’s room for seven notes.
The eighth is silent space.

Wednesday, May 10, 2017

Observations from Starbucks

Fifties, dressed in black. 
Looks are fading, but still hot. 
In shape, friendly, confident. 

Grande soy cappuccino.

Cute, little old lady.
Dressed in jeans and oversized sweatshirt.
Much cuter than she would be.
In a dress.

Medium dark roast with soy milk and one Splenda.

Father and son, so amazing.
He won’t remember this day.
But it will be in there somewhere.
Outings and errands with Dad.

Caramel macchiato and cinnamon hot chocolate.

Fat girl with a great ass.
Big, shapely ass.
Stretchy yoga pants.
Thank you.

Triple grande soy cappuccino.

Ignored little girl.
Walks around in front of father and begins a speech.
He tunes her out.
Cell phone.

French roast.

Plump Nordic woman in yoga pants.
Mama like.
I suppose that should be Daddy like.
But that sounds creepy.

Skinny vanilla latte.

Dad carrying little girl.
She sits on his arm like it’s a tree branch.
I could carry her that way for … oh, thirty seconds.
Okay, five seconds.

Two orange juices.

Little boy in superman sweatshirt.
I would.
Marry them off.
Right now.

Root beer.

These two.  They’re ‘adults’.
He has his own business.
She’s sporty and driven.

Iced venti Starbucks double shot, light ice, nonfat milk, four pumps of sugar free hazelnut and tall iced dirty soy chai.

Mexican couple.
Casual and comfortable.
I’ll bet they’re much happier.
I’d hang out with them.

Caramel frappuccino and vanilla bean frappuccino.

Betty Boop purse.
Where is her popularity coming from?
Sparkles on everything.
Purse, glasses, her ass.

Small drip coffee.

Rumpled woman.
Rumpled shirt.  Rumpled skirt.
I mean, if I can make an effort.
Anyone can.

Unsweetened iced green tea latte.

Robot girl is skinny, dressed in leather.
Walks smoothly and with purpose, like she has books on her head.
Crosses her feet while standing in place.

Grande iced coffee with a pump of toffee nut and whole milk.

Sweater over yoga pants equals awesome.
The sexy of knowing that ass is right there.
With the modesty of the girl next door.

Vanilla soy latte.

That Asian woman has been there this whole time.
Nerdy countenance.
Strong work ethic.
The ability to disappear at will.

Drink unknown.

Faded jeans and T-shirt.
Cool, big afro.
Right on.

Grande Americano.

And me.
In an apron.
Serving drinks.
For another seven hours.