Touching the Hem of Ginsberg's Coat

Listening to you read to the great gods

digitalis, iPod, DDR

I realized I missed you

dripping coffee in my

honey-pot

reminding me that tracks marks

lead somewhere

and ten years is more than

roads untraveled

lives unlived.

All The People

Culminate the possibilities

that life is more than a succession

of small successions

And I, you, me, he, she

might just be then

flesh and bone

taste and sound

dirt and sky.

Prude

I wasn't okay when you tangoed
in the horizontal direction
with a powderless
moth

So I told you
poured my heart out in a
glass Smuckers jar

let you take a sip to linger
with cold Chinese and
alcoholed decisions

but she told me that two
was not a lucky number

and I wrapped myself in closer

hid the piece I gave you
that I thought you kept

dropped on the floor
of youthful indulgence and
reputation

gathered in hands still shaking
with weathered
disappointment.

Smoking Hot

Are your lungs

as you light their way

down a carcinogen lit path

to the revolving door of the

city morgue

And I feel bad

I really do

About constantly reminding you

in quiet comments and angry rants

But sometimes I feel if I had

put out a torch or

jammed the door

I might have you a little

longer

I might see you

a little more

I might know you

a little better

far beyond my own sadness

failed attempts

ashy wishes

beyond reality

heaped in piles

at your feet.

Mango Lemonade

You look good

soft and sweet

dripping nature's honey

down my lips

like a Snapple infomercial

on pollination

but how you sting

made me think that maybe

you weren't finely ground

industrial glass

shimmering to the touch

but sharp as hell

and can I blame you?

You are what you are

smiling in my fingertips

but tart on my

tongue.

Broken Record

Menthol state of mind

hidden behind a cardboard

fortress of papertude

day-dreaming about

day-dreaming

missing the sound of

clicking keys

squeaky tires

feminine laughter

three plus years later

and play it again, Sam

I never tire of remembering

the remembering of

you.

Can't Quit You

I tried

I really did

Walked away for all of four hours

blurry and blustery
kicking cats and daydreaming WWF style
staring out a bloodshot bulb
angry that someone might want to know
if we have Mitchner
if I could recommend a good cookbook

Fuck You Mitchner!!
Fuck You Cookbook!!

And Fuck You, Coffee, you beautiful bitch
because as much as I try
your the Heath to my Gyllenhaal

and I just can't quit you.

Replacement

glassy-eyed mocha's

needles in the crook

stacks of idiot's orange & white

and these fingers are numb

tapping saxophone lips

laughing in circles

spinning repetitive wheelies

on dusty conversations

in the daytime dark.

Counter Girl

Ganesha has nothing on me
and I pet your choice of
Christian Fic and YA Novels

Not quite special enough for
the weekly Wednesday
meetings

But oh do I like a challenge

Standing alone in my element
books and people
random encounters
possibilities out the
proverbial yin-yang

And then it's done
no one noticed
and I'm driving back
to where the quiet ones
come from

It's only a year in the life
and I fade, like I always do
in the background of
your
his
her
day-to-every single of my lifetime

until they ask for me
two months later
wondering where she went
so smiley
so helpful
so good at being
what they wanted
what they needed
what they didn't know they had

until it was gone.

Gift Horse

my face is hot

but you gave me freezer lemonade

served appropriately in a

mason jar

and I could take off my

skin, leave it in a puddle

on the warehouse floor

rummage in the dirty records

bare bone and a

stupid grin

mere elements of flesh

left dwelling in that glass

until someone finished me

or poured me out

letting me dance in their

digestive juices or get absorbed

by the Tuesday sun

grizzly gravy to your pro-offered

token, odd dwellings of a

macabre mind

but I think I'll pass

I don't want you to think me

forward, flesh being a

hot topic and I'm not really

all that thirsty anymore

anyway.

Circular

Barielles smoking in my ear

closing me up

mason on your shelf

wanting to be discarded in

ditch trail sunshine and

murky water

confections evade me

promises of this week

or maybe next

or maybe next

until its 5am

in the dark stacks

loneliness left for

last years girl

tomorrow's who knows

where

and yes, Mark, we are indeed

living dead.

Only Exception

Pink Flamingos in a bronz goat mountain
Little girls and Little boys flying
rainbow kites in the cold March wind
Flying Saucers masquerading as lights
above the brown table where I
compose my first of many black and
white firsts reminding me reminding me
reminding me

you are my only exception
only you
have ever been
only you
will ever
be.

Walking In The Dark

The Marina is 2 miles long
gravel catching my tennies
crinkled paper in the night air

and you make me want to walk
in the dark

You probably didn't mean it
sickness
break-ups
narcissism

cream in the black coffee cup
I got you for
Christmas

but you said it
and I put it on
leggings and a
maroon sweater
close to my skin

there's a place on the 2 mile
dark and deserted
good spot for a...

walk
in the dark

because they wouldn't
because I'm not their type
because you made it clear

I never would be.

Pants

Why oh why do I have to wear you?
I mean really?

I know that my legs are chubby
my knees scarred from bike rides
and pocketing edema

My thighs may be a little unshaved
freckled and bumpy
covered in random marks

But their sturdy, these legs of mine
they get me from here to there
they work well enough

So why do I have to cover them?
Why do they have to hide?

I've never found reason to doubt their
beauty
I've never found reason to make them
shy.

Giveaway

I didn't know that when I walked in
you'd be waiting in slippers
and old pajamas
eyes blurred from degenerative
lenses
tears teasing the corners
arms stretched crookedly out
to present me with a gift.

And I took it
because I promised I would
but we both knew what that meant

and neither one of us felt like a winner.

Tired

I wish the world were a gigantic
bean bag

this way everywhere I go I could
stop
drop
and
sleep.

Space on the Blanket

Light and Dark
cannot occupy
the same
space

That's why Lucy never got
invited to the
picnic

He refused to bring Lemonade
when God gave him
lemons.

Yarn

Oh I could tell you
long as the yellow spun
one hell of a
story.

But I won't.

I prefer to leave the
details
to your
imagination.

Dirty Laundry

I drape you around me
smeared in yesterday's
squeaky wheelchair grease
and chocolate stained smudges.

You loved me then
Beautiful me
Beautiful you
Beautiful then.

But it's today
the wheelchair was given
to the Care Chest
and I don't get coffee
at that Raley's
anymore.

You still love me
Beautiful me
Beautiful you
Beautiful now

only I can't drape
what has been washed
with the detergent
of time around shoulders
older and wiser
to the cost of a
clean shirt

but I can remember
the feel of it
long after the stain
is gone.

Misplaced

I fell again
between the driver's side
and the gear shift.

You looked for me
eyes scanning bathroom counters
and couch crevices.

But alas
I wasn't where
you thought I
was

waiting for you
to notice
waiting for you
to feel

cool touch of my
silicon casing
only to discover
twenty-five cents
and toothpaste
don't add up
to the clean connectivity
of my numbered face

which is why I've
developed a homing beacon
I call it FINDER'S KEEPER
because I might have to
go home with a stranger
if you don't notice

the places
you're missing.