Death of a Decade Followed -- page 7

Early In The Morning

early in the morning when the night has run its course

and I find myself awake and hardly sleepy at all,

even though it is still mighty dark outside,

my body has been trained to need more sleep;

early in the morning when the cats are out roaming

I am without dressing gown and reluctant

to extricate myself from this place of warmth,

yet extract myself is always what I seem to do;

early in the morning when only the owls are smiling

my heart skips a beat but keeps on trucking

and I am wondering and pondering this new

dilemma thrust upon me as if I were still a babe

in diapers who is simply crying for a changing;

early in the morning when the sun is still sleeping

on the the other side of the world, I imagine myself

in a waking dreams of interrelationships that

never quite seem to be connected and my mind

reels back and forth from all this mental activity;

early in the morning when the stars are still in the sky

me and myself are always imagining we were up there

looking back at myself and I as we look into the sky

but the connection is never fully made until the

sunlight blocks out the the dark night's darkness and

I am left to think that I might as well get up and dressed.

6 December 2020

Stairway To Enlightenment

behind us we leave our burdens

our fears and all our worries

as wen enter the spiritual world

free and clear of anxieties

and all our man made concerns;

desires on the back porch now sit alone

as we drift into space and universal harmonies,

we see what we see and no more

we are what we are and nothing further

our minds open themselves to nothingness

so that the void we can enter and entertain

without remorse or any guilty feelings;

we are simple and pure while being

pure and simple wanting only for 

the stars in heaven to guide us,

climbing these surreal stairs of reality

merging consciousness into awareness,

letting the ripples of time wash over us

and we become one with everything

just as everything is one with us and

our souls unburden themselves  as

they transform into eternity and a 

world of bliss  is found so easily

in a life of transcendental meditation.

6 December 2020

Inside The Whale

mornings are free of all the crimes

perpetrated while sleeping and dreaming

like washing the hands in Macbeth

but they are remembered nonetheless

and as criminals we should confess

without any need of redemption

for the shallow lives we lead

nor for the crimes allegedly committed

since our dreams are not permissible

in our distinguished courts of law;

we practice not the juris prudence

in our daily lives nor do we have

any faith in lawyers or politicians who

manipulate the truth for their own salvation

but it is not salvation that the masses want

as it is compensation and dispensation

for the crimes perpetrated on their bodies

and all the dream vehicles that get us there;

we are no more magical than those childish 

flutes played in elementary school or

all the prayers we prayed in churches

to live a better life sometime but our dreams

are exactly what they are and nothing more

and will one day disappear, trapping us

inside our fantasies as if we were portraying

Jonah and finally living inside the whale.

7 December 2020

Living In Between Comparisons

it is either black or white

there are no shades of gray

not even in the book some of us read;

inside is no different than outside

and it does not depend on the time of day

as whatever once was will always be;

life and death are destinations

not points along a line of time

with which we all must contend;

open and shut are merely perceptions

and points of view that when analyzed

cannot be proven either way;

light and dark are opposite side

of the same concept that revolves

us like the moon in our sky;

love and hate are extreme emotions

brought about by circumstance

out of our control or dominions;

cats and dogs guide our thoughts

are there when friends are needed but

flee the area when let out to play;

hobbies are for the wealthy and unemployed

especially those needing money to enjoy

always leaving the rest of us out in the cold

forced to live in between comparisons.

7 December 2020

Death of a Decade Followed -- page 6

Frozen Fog Descending

a creepy and eerie fog covers our city

and with it my vision has disappeared

without a trace just like a missing person

and I reflect upon its nature

as no solutions at this time can be found

and will this wait last minutes or hours

or perhaps even months or years?

a curse upon our city we have brought

with our rotten form of politics

allowing the wealthy to dictate policy

leaving themselves exempt from retribution

and the fear of losing the next election;

a creepy eerie fog has covered our city

stopping rioters and looters in their tracks

as they cannot see what they cannot see

no can they benefit from anymore violence;

everyone remains in their brownstones

life is temporarily postposed while

we take samples and make predictions

of promises made we cannot keep

and loyalty clearly remains off the streets

allowing street cleaners to work overtime

as they attempt to remove the frozen fog

and restore the conformity of winter.

6 December 2020

White Man's Land

hire me...

hire me...

hire me...

I am black

I am african american

I am a person of color

no matter how qualified am I

nor does it matter

since I am black you see

and have been oppressed

for decades on in this 

here white man's land;

you owe me

I owe you not you see

in case you are wondering,

a high salary do I require

its nothing personal

nor is it business

its just a bit of culture

since I am free

yet oppressed still

in white man's land

and land of the free.

6 December 2020

Being Slender

slender people with

their slender clothes

live in slender houses

on slender streets

in slender neighborhoods...

slender people with

their slender attitudes

work in slender jobs

for slender pay and

when the slender day

is finally over, they

eat their slender meals

at their slender tables

after which they sleep

in their slender beds

for the rest of the night,

wishing in their slender dreams

that they were no longer

slender but really fat.

6 December 2020

A Blue Ink Pen

a blue ink pen is nice for a change

from the black ones I used,

its point is so fine that it easily

tears the paper on which I write;

how long will I use it?

until it's empty I suppose...

how fast do I complete each journal?

it depends...  I tell myself,

sometimes a month or two

but sometimes more or less;

do people read my writing?

not many...  I have surmised

and that should not bother you

as it bothers me not either,

as I write not for them

but for myself and you

or at least I try to but I suppose

sometimes I'm not that successful.

6 December 2020

Death of a Decade Followed -- page 5

Somedays

Somedays,

life is not so complicated

not so envious of tomorrow

or fearful of yesterday

as history oftentimes repeats;

Somedays,

life is more pleasant than the day before

or worse as it often depends

on our alignment to the universe;

Somedays,

we live well and die but are reborn

into a world of new circumstance

where logic no longer controls and

consciousness is received from each others

as presents free-of-charge;

Somedays,

we live for each other but not always

feasting on bear and sometimes cow

but never on sheep who are are neighbors

and the wolves wait for the bones

that we toss out into parking lots;

Somedays,

we are free but often we give up too easily

mending our cuts and scars with duck tape

and repairing our fences in our spare time

keeping all the gates open for Santa Claus.

5 December 2020

Wisdom Given Not Earned

super highways connect us to our future

interstates takes us along the paths of our present

seldom traveled backroads remind us of our past

dirt roads remind of memories we'd like to forget

and trails in forests help us remember what is forgotten,

history is omnipresent and refuses to go away

written down in journals later burned by survivors

who have little desire to record the horrors of man,

perpetrated by following spiritual laws of our leaders

and those who who have no spirituality living within at all;

journeys takes and journeys not are who we are now

blending fact with fiction as if making diet smoothies,

drinking its contents to gain universal wisdom

knowing all along that wisdom is not earned but given,

like the laws of Moses were given long ago,

even though these laws have been ignored by many

and the few keep them alive in the Temples of Solomon;

our false beliefs have crested like flood waters,

those who obey are rewarded with sexual favors

depending upon one's preference for male or female

and all the begotten children were pronounced insane

as the memories of power remain in ignorant hands

and those who know the truth fail to publish for

fear of starting a cultural revolution and the end

of equality as the economic forecasters predicted.

5 December 2020

A Black Revolution

black bullies in our streets keep all

the Caucasians in their mansions,

Caucasian cops kill black randomly

and the entire country turns upside down

wanting to change our Constitution

making it more reflective of modern day slavery

and the continued oppression of the blacks

but only a few of the thirteen percent have escaped,

living the lives of the Caucasians and Uncle Tom's;

our day is upon us and we all should take it,

arm ourselves with the Second Amendment

since the First Amendment did not work

and rewrite the Constitution once we convince Whitey

their lives are in peril and will soon be forfeit;

a twenty first century rebellion and the door

was opened by the former President Obama

and his eight years of unprecedented rhetoric,

making no mistake that Whitey needs to be stopped;

actions have always spoken louder than words

and words that always fall on deaf ears will

soon be met with violence after the sun appears

and the ship of slavery is no longer felt.

6 December 2020

Going Into The City

hand me down my walking shoes

I'm leaving this house today,

into the city I will arrive

with or without a mask and when

the door back to opportunity is opened

through its entrance I will be the first

whether it be night or day;

all the sights will be enjoyed

returning home not quickly

I will pursue my destiny...

living large as if it were my last,

using cards of credit I'd be saving

spending as if there were no tomorrow

and might well they'll be with

this virus not yet under lock and key,

although close, it be said

at least a hundred times

so, hand me down my walking shoes

let me into the city be going,

mark me well my lady friend

there will be another tomorrow

and I am going to return as I can

can feel the luck growing in my spine

and into my heart where you once resided

until this virus knocked hard on our door.

6 December 2020

Death of a Decade Followed -- page 4

Elastic Dreams Revisited

past our day's obligations

we venture into the night

exploring and deploring

all those who follow,

hoping to see our illusions

cast illusions on our enemies

and those not understanding

how one leads to another

then to another...  until there

are no more leads left to lead;

we filter our night obligations

through the rules of the day

and when those don't suffice, we

create own own by which to play,

as if play were our heart's desire

and violation of same was like rape

but those who commit are not sent away,

the night remains long past curfew

with breakfast at ihop expected,

removing our wallets from wrong pockets

we are expected to pay or else...

what exactly I do not know

other than the cock of the walk

is about to crow three times.

4 December

Mindless Immigration

in the basement's attic of our thoughts

dreams exist in three part harmony

and while there is no roof over our head

there is a floor of memories lying dormant

and dormant they will continue to be until

those memories have no where else to hide,

left with the illusion of continuity and the

hope that each passing day will never last;

in the attic of my basement's realities

exist no memories at all but a consciousness

that is vividly demanding in what it feels

as sight becomes falsified documents of life

memories tossed about like beads at Mardi Gras

and I become the witness that never testifies,

living with prosecuting guilt trips of suicide,

the wanton behavior from which we will die,

leaving no one to guard the admission gates,

all my open boarders to mindless immigration.

5 December 2020

The Elimination of Truth

rays of sun burst through the front door

an unannounced but warranted police raid,

my mind revels in the ideas of revelations

in the theories of extraterrestrial communications

and time travel was the vehicle that moved

us all here in the first place because our

universe contained no where for us to go;

easily seen sunlight on the floor provides

much needed warmth in winter for our cats

who sleep through most days oblivious to

various sights and sounds surrounding,

while providing us with the energy of

our sightless feelings that guide us

miraculously through the day ahead;

the front door's window cannot prevent

the sunlight from entering the room

as it does everyday announcing the

conclusion of yesterday --  today's beginning,

the light of morning bends our thoughts

but leaves room enough for us to feel

sensations of daily rituals brought with us

from the other side of somewhere when

transported to this earth at birth after

having traveled for nine months and in

our likenesses we have eliminated truth.

5 December 2020

No One Listens

America yells out from under all her scars

reluctantly giving birth to an angry mob

whose rioting, looting, and burning are

the signs that our yesterdays never dies

and a future in which no one ever cries;

feasts of animosity are served on both sides

and are eaten voraciously by their constituents

after political  rallies at which no one attended

except the militants who arrived there on buses;

America's decline is China's rise to fame

despite releasing the deadly virus on the world,

citizens of all walks and colors die without honor

and all their reasons to live are buried with them;

hope fades each day with the setting sun as

we are reminded of our mourning for JFK...

the taboos of yesterday became the relics of 

tomorrow about which no one cared or bothered;

the muscles of our mind atrophied with feelings,

our pity...  our sorrow was stolen by the wealthy

who wanted slaves to beg for their forgiveness

in order to receive tokens of appreciation;

America yells out but no one listens

America lost her way but no one give directions

America is no longer America but a nation

who borrows money for an underserved vacation.

5 December 2020

Death of a Decade Followed -- page 3

Never Be Equality

in from the cold comes the spy

putting their tools back on the shelf

hoping to die in their bed only

fixated on the deaths they have caused

as if they are the masters not the gods

and when the warrior deeds were done

they will be rewarded thrice over one;

in from the cold the spies come in

as easily as putting their winter coats in closets

and even though we prayed for this day

we never believed it would happen

and all the deaths we could not save

have received their own rewards in heaven;

in from the cold the wealthy sit on their treasures

sheltering away their fortunes hidden from taxes

not caring at all what the poor people say

or that their children might be starving

but that they are on top and others are not

save the ones they join on the golf course;

in from the cold the rebels dine on leftovers

and even though they fancy more they need not apply

saving their strengths of wills for another day

when the sheep will no longer be herded into the valley

and the people are finally treated like people

even thought there will never be equality.

4 December 2020

Freedoms Gone

our masters sit on their asses

their fingers on keyboards

scrolling through their fortunes

while Bach and Beethoven play

and basketball replaces baseball

as our new national past-time but

only the wealthy can see the game

while everyone else uses a rented box;

fires burn in our cities and damage stands

amid the staring glance of law enforcement

with all but a perfect view of the performance,

all others remain inside their homes

wondering when the terrorism will end,

remembering when our country could be trusted

to protect and serve the innocent without question;

college bands march and play in parades

honoring fathers and mothers long since passed away

and can no longer see the changes being made and

no longer experience what they doubt they once had

and will never see their loss of freedoms.

4 December 2020

Judas Priest

betrayed by family

betrayed by friends

betrayed by co-workers

betrayed by relatives

betrayed by strangers

Americans have finally met their match

as black lives matter march through streets

and anarchists burn and loot

while the rest of us tear down Confederate statues

in the hopes that removal will appease...

but only the beginning this soon will be

the end is nowhere on our event horizons,

and probably will never be found

until all the white folks leave this country

and she dies and dissolves

into the ground like rain

and its rebirth will soon be discovered

by the Orientals who will no more toil

and no more will the masses be exploited

once our new masters take control

replacing our democratic republic

with socialistic communism.

4 December 2020

December's Calendar

sixteen days of not having to go anywhere...

good fortune or what?

COVID is on the rise again in the USA

and businesses are suffering

and our people must endure more

and want to blame China...

but no one wants to bother as

the wealthier get wealthier without trying

sharing their money with the blacks

because of two hundred year old slavery;

resentment for the blacks is growing

but not everyone of color is involved

and I see some kind of war coming

that all the brothers of my generation

seem to want to fight as tired

of giving in they are, with only the blacks

now receiving special treatment...

and as the pendulum swings back and forth

we are on a collision course as hatred

grows during the next decade.

4 December 2020

Death of a Decade Followed -- page 2

Justification of Truth

truth needs no justification

it is what it is --  or should be

and never anything else

even when hidden from the public

in order to protect and serve;

truth lives in history

and never vice versa as those

who consider themselves winners

always write the books;

truth and despair never mix

like oil and water but on those days

when truth cannot be proven in

courts of law --  it fails consideration;

truth is the bullet in life's weapon

and is seldom fired even when

desperately needed by those to

prevent others from stealing their dignity;

truth lives at the bottom of an empty well

and is retrieved only when

someone illegally crosses our borders

hoping to find truth while living among us.

2 December

Donna's Birthday (1-3-53)

church bells toll and the

heavens open up the sky,

gifts are wrapped and given

memories are retained digitally,

food is laid out on a table

open window curtains let in the sun,

the day begins when it is time,

the cats hustle for a snack,

cold air permeates the hardwood floors

and everyone has done their chores;

the rules indicate "do not disclose"

our routines altered this one day and

when all we can say is HAPPY BIRTHDAY

and we all wish you more than well,

hoping time will never ends its story

and you will continue as you've always done

and we will continue celebrating over

the day of your birth as you can see

all that you have meant to everyone.

2 December 2020

Always Wondering Am I

how the universe was created,

are there multiple dimensions,

is there a parallel universe,

what happens to us once we die,

our purpose here on earth is what exactly,

why were we even born,

who are we, 

is life predetermined like birth,

what is the universe expanding into,

will string theory become reality,

is there a cosmic consciousness,

are UFO's and aliens for real,

why is truth always so obscure,

and when I find these answers to these wonderings

no doubt there will be more...  and on and on and on,

and when discovered will it really matter

what all these answers were 

and what, if anything, it will mean in our next life?

2 December 2020

Just For Today

today's story has yet to be told

thousands of seconds unrevealed,

waiting and bating the user

to follow their own instincts,

making this day another day to remember;

but, as we go about our business

separating fact from reality

politics from the truth,

seeing strangers remain where they are

and all the doctors and nurses whose

job it is to save others --  cannot save themselves;

today is today and that never fails us

as our truth is all that remains when

the day finally unfolds all its colors and

we learned that we have survived again.

4 December 2020

Death of a Decade Followed -- page 1

Soldiers of Fortune

our minds are desperate but

our hearts are clear in their

stated purpose of neutrality

as the war between worlds

will soon be waged and no

one will be the wiser for it

when it consumes our thoughts,

actions, and attitudes, taking

sides with one or another in an

effort to maintain normalcy

in a society where justice bends

not to the will of the people or divine

but to those who have the power

and the money to control destiny,

forcing those who do not agree

into camps of isolation where

they can be re-indoctrinated

into a life of freedoms where

freedoms do not exist in the

minds of the soldiers who,

in the long run,

only perceive that they were

following orders given to them

by those who believe less and

less in the life we've been given.

2 December 2020

Pin The Tale

delayed incriminations

fall short of expectations

as we adjust and

readjust our perceptions

for the fish bowl life

in which we are living;

duty ranks second

among our beliefs of

a second coming since

the un-wealthy have

little else on which to

pin their hopes other than

the donkey at a party;

we lay down our lives

we lay down the law

we lay down everything

else that matters,

but in reality

all that is ever seen

are the fears that are

always on display at

at the ballot box and the

forging of a new nation

that no one in their

right mind would have

ever dreamed about creating.

2 December 2020

In The Light Of Day

at the end of the day we

weep and lament over all

that was not accomplished

although never being seen...

how could it have ever been done?

we owe our lives to our parents

yet we owe our parents nothing

once they are dead and buried

and almost forgotten as we go

about our daily lives reminding

ourselves to look at the photographs;

at the end of the night we

awake into a new world of

forgotten memories as the years

pass away much quicker than our thoughts

or the need to be in fellowship with

our fellow man and their families;

we see best what is not seen at all

and do best what we need not do,

since being criminals in this land

means we are always above the law

and never safer than free because

we were born in the right house

to the right parents and in the

right location to meet our right destiny.

2 December 2020

Life Is Always Younger

romance feeds on discontent

discontent feeds on love

love feeds on loneliness and

loneliness arrives from our imaginations;

life and death are the trademarks

of our existence and is 

much better than thinking we are

who we are or who we need to be;

dwelling quietly in this good night

living large during this good day,

we are not so much creatures of habit

as we are creatures of our own misfortunes;

life has been given to spite the dead and

we always die despite we were once living...

it is this cycle that is the most forgiving

and the only one we can surmise

the good...  the bad...  the indifferent;

our hearts are always full of desire

even when married to another and

whenever divorce seems inevitable

we always perceive fault was never our own;

duty lives in the house around the corner,

we read our neighbor's newspaper after bein thrown away

desperation fills our hearts each day and night

knowing what we've accomplish will one day fade.

2 December 2020

FROM 1986 -- January -- page 4

Clear Feelings Betrayed

I can see clearly

your image and can

imagine how you

are dressed...

the way your clothes fit

around your body,

your waist...

the shape of your legs,

the movement of your

hips as you walk,

the soft texture of your

face and the sensuous

teasing me cleverly

into submission;

those calming, passionate

eyes betray your feelings,

our love burns brightly

like a Church candle

in a moonless sky...

on some deserted beach,

we find ourselves lying,

caught up in some

mystical magic romance,

a fairytale that caused

familiarity to burn our

memories, leaving us only

to remember the sparkle

and the love we stole;

a love not given up easily,

carried around...   as some

kind of painful reminder

that cannot be escaped

or deny the irony that tore

us apart understanding that

strength is not always enough.

Walls Hold

newness fills the office

setting a tone,

fixing...  the

levels of communications,

workflows...

and past due reports,

meeting to determine

all the somethings or others

with which we contend;

time for this or that is over,

postpone your current schedule

that report is needed now...

what's with this hectic nature

and what is expected?

the walls hold onto their

bland appearance and my

collection of art collects

dust in my closet...

I live with uncertainties

of times...

of dates...

of places...

and who is the one really

responsible for this week.

Futures

my future fell from view in

the lost and found department,

no one could help...

I sat wondering on my favorite rock

about all that I should do...

out from under the wondering

I crawled...  slowly at first,

then my pace quickened

and the brush stroked a new scene,

a vision into my rooms of dreams,

of all my night dreams...

of my day dreams...

of my anytime dreams...

I remained in this room from

which I could no longer escape.

Year New

the new year is three days old,

we must say our goodbyes,

our routines ends,

new life must begin again,

rearranged lives packs away

everything into memories,

friends support misgivings,

all doubts abandoned in 

the face of this madness,

anger displaces complacency

and circles break into slow motion,

uncharted currents of time

extend out a hand yet only 

one hand is offered...

only one can survive...

only one can belong.

Mornings

in the morning

looking our my window

into the last of the

evening's darkness,

layers of darkness peer

at me through all

these tree branches,

filling my room with

surges of newness and a

chance to begin anew.

FROM 1986 -- January -- page 3

Waiting Thoughts

thoughts sit in the hollow of

my consciousness...  silent...

words paired cleverly together

elude my pen strokes and

the empty paper rests patiently

for charms of creativity,

a burst of energy...

my ideas drop as you reached out

to catch another fresh approach,

and my recollections remain

beside you...  nothing new.

Tracing

we trace the mental images

of a lost companion,

privately and deeply

within our eyes,

we see faintly,

yet visible...   a reminder

of a sadness, like sunburn

can be soothed and felt.

Iliad

drugstore gypsies precisely at 

ten, return with their lost fortunes 

and dream of Homer's Iliad,

discussing politics of the day,

their conversations with

casual observations...  reckless,

but in a down-to-fashion,

they all just seem to disappear.

Within Living

we pretend...  you and I,

to face our realities

save the solemn

taken years ago...

we offer solutions

without knowing the problems

living within its side effects;

we wound selfishly, the

honor of each other's pride,

until the bottle spins

and we are together...

we disobey the Ouija board,

a crap shoot...  alley style,

but life does begin

and end on our city's streets.

Euphoria

a weakness for the unfamiliar passes

inside and the challenges become real

and wonder who holds the permit;

hidden beneath sensations, euphoria

falls...  is caught and wrapped...

hidden safely away...  preserved

in one of our kitchen cannisters,

resealed, a memory rests on my

shoulders while all the missing

weep alone in our silences.

FROM 1986 -- January -- page 2

Looking Away

she turns and faces him,

astonished...  he looks away

and off into the distance,

he looks at the table...

and then at her and each time

she looks it's a little longer;

his shyness attracts her intensity,

her teasing looks...

she turns away and her wonders

of his chances...  or,

lost opportunities...  waiting

until the next time she looks

and he turns away.

Yesterday

yesterday...  so far away,

past memories slip into words,

a consciousness on paper,

between the lines,

messages hold a single

constant reminder,

waging war with deaf ears.

Country Songs

country music plays

melancholy blues,

cries of sorrows

lay at your feet

with the sawdust,

swirls of wind bring

an artic cold solemn

and penetrating,

Thursday's wait spent

on distant roads and

as the weeks pass we

become total strangers.

Failed Innocence

pressed against the window

looking out in disbelief,

your weary eyes,

blistered and burned,

by irresponsibility have

prematurely aged

holding back the anger of

your fear frustrating hatred

that innocence failed to protect you;

stripped of love, friendship, and security,

disabled by a crippling companion

whose insatiable desires leave you barren,

in a timeless void of wasted memories,

you stand as a saint among a sinner

your forgiveness shines on the future

and on the child who must now

learn to live with her father's failures.

Morning Awakens

the sky lifts back its darkness

like sleepy eyelids...

a faint belt of color,

reds and yellows,

gird the horizon, leaving a

 blue greyness behind;

morning awakens,

her image reflected in first light,

object grow into silhouettes

from out of nowhere and her

foreword prepares a peacefulness.

FROM 1986 -- January -- page 1

An Introduction

I see you in the morning air,

fresh approach and black long hair,

have we met, I ask myself?

I don't think so but would we

dare chance such a meeting,

such a conspicuous encounter,

without being introduced?

I wonder how I will feel when

when you finally speak to me?

How can I encourage that

which is not understood?

always to enter...

to be rescued and delivered,

I see you in morning

and wish I had not.

Sheer Madness

from one to the other we

flow like lava down

the mountainside...

a respite...

each one different...

offering sheer madness,

a chance at new formations,

changes in attitude and

self-governing latitudes,

creeping towards an answer.

Our Barriers

can we expect to understand a

beginning to all things or

something that never ends,

no beginning --  no end

like a circle; but what,

lies outside the barrier?

our soul or spirit

like the wind is

understood and is never seen,

yet the universe as

tangible as we make it has

no end...  no beginning...

our alarm for concern is

rather relative I suppose.

Morning Routines

behind the counter her presence attracts,

she listens while her foot rests casually on the shelf,

pulling tight her jeans around her thighs,

bent over with elbows on the counter's surface,

are arms folded in front...

intently gazing...  intently smiling;

she looks around at those whose lives

interrupted her morning routine,

a habit to which she looks forward,

under the shinning coal black hair

she holds a small town library

volumes of short stories of gossip,

life's hardships and who's banging who;

her blouse parts, exposing her breasts,

a creamy soft whiteness that only strangers notice;

like a Rockwell painting her composure lasts

forever and her memories are locked away

in a mental book that will remain unpublished.

A Country Store

small town politics over coffee

over smokes and laughing secrecy,

off the record comments rule

an uninterested public with flavors

of the day...  week...   month...  or year,

crops crippled by the cold and heat

bring out the pot-bellied stove conversations

and city fathers dressed in fancy clothes

carry full pocketbooks into the parlor,

sitting in the corners and with a wave

of the hand symbolize their similarities.

FROM 1986 -- February -- page 4

Distance of Attraction

behind her elegance

wrapped up in a stranger's imagination

she becomes the perfect lover

a daydream of

scattered illusions and

endless possibilities;

we blend our loneliness into preferences

feeling the warmth across

the distances of attraction,

a neutral barrier lying naked;

we share disbelief

a desperate agreement to behold

like a captive audience

is our fate...  we bring our purposes

together expressing pains and sorrows.

Surviving

tears roll from her eyes

down her cheeks,

past the corners of

her mouth where they

collect until their weight

pulls them into oblivion;

healed by the years of endured patience,

she wears indications of survival

proudly and visible,

continuing to manage,

to make do,

to accept...  by the fire,

alone with her memories,

a scrapbook of her life remains

open to an empty house,

save herself;

her eyes dry slowly by

the heat of the fire as she

waits for his return someday.

Restless Liabilities

the winter sets in motion

our restlessness...

papers tell of discontented

liabilities...

thoughts lie in our genuine

hand-painted collection

of stoneware...

and the box of Russel Stover

becomes our surrogate lover.

Tangled Memories

tangled memories twisted

around my consciousness,

pinched by reality

sleep as strangers talk;

we share as strangers,

looking into each other's

eyes for the first time;

as strangers smile,

we remember our situation,

crying as close friends

upon weak shoulders.

Wanting

the lady wants what

I want...   but,

not with me...  and,

the lucky man who

takes her granted,

only takes a portion

of her passion...  and,

the rest belongs to me

through the excitement

of our monthly affairs.