Friday, October 28, 2011

The Limp


There were eleven in all, three women and eight men. They all seemed unrelated. Some were tall others not so. Different ages, some overweight. A cross section of what, I couldn’t figure. But here’s the thing, they all limped. I turned and started to walk away from them. I picked up my pace but they were gaining on me. Why couldn’t I walk faster? It was then that I reached the gate. I turned to look back. They were almost up to me and they asked in unison, “Why are you still limping?” Sweating I turned and opened the gate. That was when I woke. The pain in my leg … the pain.


Tuesday, October 25, 2011

The Dark

It is dark as I slip my way up the isle
sliding and sticking to the old linoleum
I see albino ankles and arthritic knees
(just keep grabbing onto the light)
as I look up it is there like a crack
in the darkness guiding me to someplace else
anyplace but here will do
why am I here—how can I get free

Someone cranks their leg out
I slide back a few paces and land next to
a naked lady who is suffocating from the fumes
another lady who is scantily dressed laughs at us
I abandon them both and continue to go up
and am now covered in the sticky sickeningly sweet
fluid that continues to flow down the isle
will it never end—how can I get free

From just outside the door I see him
blood red and dressed to kill
he waves to me and I make a final jump
out of the dark and the things that cling to me
(bits of bad thoughts and fragments of love carcasses)
dry up and fall off of me onto the sidewalk
I take his hand and we walk for miles into sunshine
Reddleman blazes singsongy: Free from one is slave to another

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Saturday Matinee

Mother gave us each a quarter for the show
       and a dime for some treat
my favorite was milk duds
my sisters and I walked about a mile to the theater
serial episodes, Rin Tin Tin or Flash Gordon
we followed them each week
my sisters were older so I walked home alone
it had something to do with boys
I didn’t understand what that was all about.
but it truly disturbed me
not so much about the boys
it meant I had to walk alone
alone past that house
set back off the street
dark shadows, dingy windows
rumors, gruesome stories  
I whistled, looked straight ahead
and thought of Ming the Merciless

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Goldfinger



In 1964 I was 6 years old
somehow I found myself
in the movie theater

A large screen with wild images
What is going on?

The image of           The Woman in Gold
has stayed with me

shocked at 6
mystified now
                                The Golden Goddess
it stays in the recesses of my mind
So yes I do remember.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Sticky Floor


Do you remember?
I remember it every time
   I step on a sticky floor in the theater
it was a French film – Eric Rohmer
as near as I could tell
it was about paint drying
I couldn’t understand French
and the subtitles were just confusing
we sat in the back row – murky shadows
and we kissed, it was called necking in those days
kissed until our lips became numb
legs in pretzels
spilled popcorn
and, oh yes, my foot kicking your Coke
the sticky fluid running down
through the rows

Monday, October 17, 2011

Banana Split

Jab it
Poke it
Tear it
Rip it
Cut it
Slice it
Break it
or of course
you can
Split it

It all has the same ending
Banana Split



Saturday, October 15, 2011

Banana peel


Peeling a banana
everyone has their own theory about this
I for one follow this procedure every time
jab my thumb nail in the base of the stem
then break its neck by pushing backwards
the separation is clean
then peel downwards each section
but not quite all the way
if any veins are left peel them too
grab the fruit and break it free from the tip.
Then there are the others
the ones that favor a sharp knife
it’s faster but of course more brutal.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Banana Seat

Greg straddles the Banana Seat
Suzy is pressed against the Sissy Bar
I squeeze into the Butterfly handle bars

We rode into the plum scented early evening
Far and Fast we screamed and ranged
Away from our homes
And all the attendant problems

Fearless, sailing past orchards and
Japanese green houses, skimming around
Elementary schools with cement play yards,
Teasing mysterious homes occupied by
Earthbound Ghosts of World War I

It all made sense
Way before the Treaty of Versailles
We children had made peace with our world
Lived in it completely 
and accepted all its weirding ways 


Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Whoosh

Whoosh – the peloton rounds the curve to the left
the air opening and closing around the group of cyclists
like a huge flock of birds or a school of small fish
all turn at the same moment
then whoosh, whoosh, single riders  
two lost souls struggle to catch up
I stand and watch
an astronomer peering at some distant galaxy
trying to make sense of it all.

Friday, October 7, 2011

Penny Farthing


These two sides exist encased in each other
Don't ever take one more serious than the other
To always have a smile is false and belies the truth
Remember: Buddha is an ideal not a man and he too trod dark paths

Why this fear of the dark? This fear of the light?
Both are human — both are God given — both have a place on earth

My brother tells me every face I see is my own!
We are merely reflections of each other
He channels all the light to cover his dark
The police know where He lives and visit with firm reprimands

As He climbs his high wheeled Penny Farthing
Dons his Out of Africa Hat — He pedals firmly away
Without even a glance over his shoulder
Where behind him stand The Women .... Disturbed and Devastated
Left to sweep all his Sub-Rosa Dark
under a carpet of Frail Gossamer Light
With the forgetting wind at his face He smiles and rides on

Thursday, October 6, 2011

SJ


We stand on the shoulders
of giants and dwarves and
those others we call normal
in other words we didn’t get here alone,
he didn’t get here alone
those we love, those we don’t much care for
they are us, we are their face

I hold up my iPad
and someone uses it to slice cheese

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Santa Cruz and Pain

And Santa Cruz is a kind of a Death with needles that prick your flayed skin
and light up the map with electric red dots that mark all the places you have tried
and gotten no where.
The sun never shines and all the women have iron in their hearts even at the bar after drinks you think you have a friend the next time you see them they ignore you.
The sun never shines and all the men dress like boys in short pants from the Victorian era with sun aged skin covered in tattoos of Micky Mouse and death.
They like each other way more than women and spend hours on the internet looking for herbs to cure impotency.
And Santa Cruz is too cool and they gotta keep it weird and there is so much pressure with that as you  gotta look the same and all be weird cuz weirdos rule and cool people rock and normal is bad and the sun never shines and opiates sprout from babies mouths so mama wont be in a bad mood or for gods sake normal, please not normal.
And Santa Cruz is a pain and a kind of a death for a lady that likes sunshine and tea with girlfriends and men who look like men.


Sunday, October 2, 2011

The most normal thing in the world


Someone is shaking me awake
my groggy eyes look down the bed
sometime in the night they moved
     my bed to somewhere in Cambodia
this tiny woman wants to take my vitals
   blood pressure, temperature, O2 saturation.
I rebuild my confidence in the day
oh yeah, Santa Cruz and pain
she straightens my covers
“what’s this” she asks
then she pulls a full urine bottle
from between my legs
slept all night with that there
“didn’t spill a drop” she says, with a smile, as if it was
    most normal thing in the world.