Island Meats

Indigo streets
veiled in sea skirts
tarnished silver swirls
pewter wraps,
posers neath every island lamp.

The neon is dark,
the amplifiers mute,
the townie crooners have retired
to their double wides,
and swaying harbor homes.

Indigo streets
where the money comes to prance,
where the well heeled preen
for liquor and a Benjamin’s attention,
for pussy, and a glazed hollow smile.

 

The Little Bits

It’s the little bits,
the bacon left in the pan,
that last frail color in the trees
when November walks away.

It’s the little bits,
the tenderness proffered,
the words on a stoop with Lois at 3 A.M.
It’s the grin as you pull her zipper down.

It’s the little bits,
the children,
the voices that never have a voice,
the morsels on the grill,
the sacrifice of parent’s choices,
of the predators come to call.

It’s the little bits,
where the fracking splits
from the common sense of methane and oil.
It’s the little bits
the precious moments expired,
mute grins from the grave,
our little bits left in the pan.

In a Distant Dream

I held you finite, locked
in a moment that could never change.
It never did in the heart of my eyes.

I held you infinite,
our city evolving through the rust
the two mile trains
dragging out the steel,
the slag, the sweat
the coke, the scars,
the hammers wailing sparks
hiding swallowed tears.

I held you
as the snow fell blind
in quilted muffles we laughed
in those days obscured
in a distant dream.

Death by Train

I walked you up the stairs,
as your legs scissored
‘neath that saucy toss of red skirts.

I walked us
to the sun bleached rail ties,
where your shoulders would turn,
where your eyes would speak to me.

I walked you to the train in Del Mar,
the Surfliner to San Luis Obispo,
the end of the line
where your eyes fell mute.

 

Simply

Simply
as a slipper warms a foot,
as a puppy makes us giggle
with their nuzzles, stumbles,
their aimless and relentless tongues.

Simply
as the sky tucks in our stars,
as a babe seeks a teat.
I fall into you.

Simply
my heart holds yours
as dusk holds the dawn,
as we paint upon the other’s days,
as we breathe another’s life.

Simply
as a willow sips from the river,
as a flower kisses the feet of bees
I fall into you.

Riding the River Road

Riding the river road
past the silos and slag,
engine harnessed,
sweating, pulling at the bit.

Fog is lacing its fingers
as the soil begins to dream.
Sanborn’s bending his sax
unravelling the seams of G.

Riding the river road
Downshifting to 3rd
to take the Old Men’s corner
Gunning to 4th to smooth those seniors out.

Orion crinkling, Gemini rising…
spectral sugar drizzled on the sky.
A mile past the neon of Sadie’s Cave
still a thousand miles to you.

Riding the river road
where the folks live the water,
where the water holds their lives.
Riding the river road
where a bar stool rat might save your skin
that of your kin,
and just maybe the rest of your life.

Riding the river road
past the silos and slag,
engine harnessed,
sweating, pulling at the bit.

Orion crinkling, Gemini rising…
spectral sugar drizzled on the sky.
A mile past the neon of Sadie’s Cave
still a thousand miles to you.

Riding the river road
where the folks live the water
Riding the river road
where the water holds their lives.
Riding the river road
where a bar stool rat might save your skin
that of your kin,
and just maybe the rest of your life..

A Little Harder to Live

At the end of this summer the lake boats lay about like pastel fish, belly up and scaled, paint fading… an abandoned catch. The porch chairs stare off at the steel gray harbor as if stunned at all the bottoms they have met. The color has gone for the awninged eyes of the shops, their dark canvas lashes rolled up or taken off. Katie’s B&B might make it one more winter. She’ll get a boost from the ice sailing if the freeze is quick and long. Lonny has taken down the bikinis and ‘Souvenir Tees’. He’ll have the flannel up by October. He’ll rent eighty pair of skates if he’s lucky. Cam’s Bait and tackle does some ice fishing trade, but mostly he and Tina live off plowing from the lake effect snows. Tina sells naughty cookies online, Boobs and Butts for Christmas and Valentines Day.
At the end of every summer the ranks grow thinner, the winds seem to bite a little sooner, this life a little harder to live.

Inner City Beach

At a briny shore of a green foil sea,
churned and angry,
relentless paws
plucking, mauling,
rude shovels of wind.

It roars around your ankles,
diddling neath your skirts,
your hair… tossed into stalagmite spikes,
buffets rattle your cavities,
chewing on your sins.

Sea wraps around your ankles
like a hungry spinster's sucking face,
then receding like an offer of forgiveness,
just before you are taken…
then raped again and again.

Drifting Off

I grabbed a corn beef and 5 martinis.
#5 courtesy
of a tranny from Goldman Sachs.
I nodded, winked, and tossed it back.
I’d be hearing from Cedric again.

I took the O-no-you-ditn’t train,
the 9:55 from the city,
the ‘Grill’s closed chump!’,
its cars filled with souring lives.

Doors closed… I drowsed
Doors opened
and the snow was massive,
drifts crested like frozen seas.
Driving chances sloughed away
like a dead albino’s skin.

I walked off into the white,
its alabaster blanket
wrapped around my vague dismay.
I wandered - thinking
could I get another martini?
…Uh oh… those meatballs at the bar!

Valerie?
It’s really cold.
My car must be here.
I have keys goddamn it!
Val, can I curl up with you?
Tell me bout your day my darling?

Val, I’m cold,
but it’s not so bad here… y’know?
This darkness is peaceful,
that star is beautiful.
Valerie?
I never knew how I needed to… sleep.
But wait… Val?
I lo…