Tuesday, June 30, 2015


The new streets aren’t like
the mean streets or the gold streets
or even the neighborhood streets,
they are just streets where a variety
of interconnected things just seem to happen.

Streets of coincidence and timing,
streets of random dumb luck and
a convalescence of circumstance
all conspiring to put that mish-mash
into some sort of coherent form.

The streets speak gibberish,
their word is unreliable and
sloppy and full of the worst
sorts of half-truths and half-lies,
the street’s word has been run over.

The Dead End is a cul-de-sac now,
The No Outlet is filled with new houses,
the worn Earthen path has given way to
the Urban Street Garden Club and their
rose bushes and lilacs.

The liquor store is a tax accountant office,
the train tracks are cut off,
the Church is empty,
the diner is boarded,
but the flower shop is ok.

The corner store is a franchisee,
the tire shop is gone,
the video store is shuttered,
the movie house burnt down.
The cat lady house is empty.

Her corner is now empty on hot summer
nights, once men came creeping
with their hot summer desires and greasy
money. She’s been gone a long time. She’s
probably dead, from either all that between the legs
or all that nothing in her head.

The street might have known, if it had
the chance, to tell us what it had heard,
but those days are gone and summers and
winters make us pretend it never had anything
to say in the first place. Those street are gone.

Thursday, June 11, 2015

Stepped in it Now

It’s on my shoe
and I’ve tracked it
all through the

I waded through it.
I mashed it.
It’s radiant.
It’s colorful.
It’s everywhere.

I need a sharp
stick to scrape
the joy from my soles.
I stepped in it deep.
It smells like electric roses.

I’m happy to see it.
I’m happy its aroma is
filling my nose.
It’s about time.

I usually just track in
dirt and misery.
But not today, today
I stepped in an ocean of joy.

Rainbow patterned puddles
finally in my path, worthy of
splashing in. I’d swim in it if
I could.

But that somehow seems like
too much. I don’t want to
overdo the joy. Just tracking
it in, through the hall, on the carpet
is more than enough for now.

Monday, June 8, 2015

Words of Curse

            “Curse this malaise,” cried Rory. He turned off the TV and tossed the remote control to the furthest couch cushion and slowly rose to his feet. His knees cracked.

            “Curse my rickety bones,” shouted Rory. He stretched his legs out and felt the twinge of age in his joints. Cars on the street outside started honking their horns.

            “Curse this noise,” yelled Rory. He went to his window and peered out over the bustling intersection. A plane flew low overhead.

            “Curse this flightpath,” sneered Rory. He looked up to the bright blue summer sky and the winking glint of the metal airplane. A dog started barking.

            “Curse that damn dog,” swore Rory. The dog was barking at a squirrel that had climbed up a nearby tree. Rory’s cell phone buzzed and vibrated.

            “Curse all this technology,” said Rory. He checked his cell phone e-mail and had received a message about new vinyl siding at a low cost. He moved toward the right and stepped on a small pebble that had somehow found its way into Rory’s home.

            “Curse you bare feet,” exclaimed Rory. He hopped on one foot and brushed the small stone off onto the hall carpet. He checked his foot to see if he was bleeding. He caught his awkward reflection in the hallway mirror.

            “Curse you…,” stopped Rory. He pat at his growing middle aged belly. He rubbed the scruff on his chin. He ran his fingers through his too long hair. It was grayer now than before.

            “Curses,” said Rory. He hung his head until his chin touched his chest. He shuffled back toward the couch and sat. He turned the TV back on.

            “Curses,” cried Rory’s guardian angel, “I almost had him up that time! I don’t know what I gotta do to get that guy up and back into the world.”

            “Patience,” said the guardian angel’s guardian angel. “Patience and a little more stimulation. Something more than dogs barking or planes and traffic, bones creaking and pebbles left about.”

            “I’ll try,” said Rory’s guardian angel. The guardian angel’s guardian angel nodded and went about her duties.

“Cursed guardian angel, telling me what to do, phht,” mumbled Rory’s guardian angel. He turned on Earth TV and flipped through the channels. A harp played in the distance.

            “Curse those noisy harps.”

Tuesday, June 2, 2015

15 Minutes of Cool

It happens every once in a while
where I’m very cool for a
short period of time.

I mean like, Steve McQueen style
For exceptionally brief moments.

I glide through the room, a slight
knowing smile on my face,
a casual grace electrifies my body
and I just look good.

I say the right thing,
I joke just right,
I smile and wink and nod
like I’m part of the whole big

My hair is perfect,
My smile is clean,
My outfight is tight,
My words are sharp.

I’m cool for a very short
period of time, but then,
I ruin it.

I guffaw, I snort, I chuckle at my
own joke.
I awkwardly tuck in my shirt in front
of everybody,
I clean my glasses.
I fart.
I burp mid-sentence.

I shuffle on my feet,
I say the worst possible thing
that is totally contrary to
everything that is cool.

Fonzie was a dork.