late summer stillness
reigns today as
lazy clouds float
and break away
late summer sun
still hot
shines through
the bright and
humid warmth amid
the dimmer cool
such fading verve
of furnace blasts
seems welcome now
the worst of
summer’s heat
is past
when it comes
with night lights blarin’
razor sharp an’
winkin’, wailin’
tuneful troubadours with
tales of woe an’ wonder
tales of loss an’ left to wander
hearts an’ souls
can’t bear to be alone but
never seem to stay together
so late at night
with night lights blarin’
razor sharp an’
winkin’, wailin’
tuneful troubadours
their passions pulsing
reliving every cut an’ stab
the harshest times
that never die
so crisp, so clear
come share their pain
can’t stay away
over an’ over
again an’ again
We know that
Everybody has one
And we all make excuses
Every single person has
An evil friend
We also know
The day is long
And, too, the night is short
How can we ever live without
Our evil friend
We do things
That we should not do
We don’t do things we should
We struggle yet accommodate
That evil friend
We rarely challenge
And sometimes, too
We all become
Some other’s
Evil friend
‘Cause we all know that
Everybody has one
Why? We don’t quite know
But every single person has
An evil friend
A thoughtless trespass
moved to piqued esteem
no harm intended, minding not
another’s deep despair
like random keys plucked
from school laptops
just to make a word
to put in his pocket
“buck up, pal” the
minor indiscretions
mean no harm
do not intend to injure
only careless words and deeds
that damage nonetheless
and so defend against this
formless threat of danger
the snide, the trite, the insincere
that brew and bubble
one day may
no longer be repaired
The vicious rite of winter
bites
And sinks its clammy claw
through to bone
It paralyzes me
like nothing – numbing my brain
I must leave it
or die shaking
formed
in flutes
where candles flicker
waxy table tops and wooden chairs
silhouette in blue air
floats
our point of intersection
a dint of sunny street
light shines up front
but in the back the
dim-lit high-back booths
pronounce the privacy
with dull green walls
and wooden seats and
glossy black accents
an ornate
stamped-tin ceiling seems
the only interloper here
(beyond the kitchen door
the dishes – heavy duty
dishes – clank and rattle)
Drake’s was old and
liked to let us know
we found the only sign
of really modern times
the vague and distant
melodies of modern songs
that crept in from the kitchen
and reminded us
the present was the past
and as a game of pool
becomes a night at the bar
the first chess game
becomes the second
i can neglect the goths,
the franks, consuls and kings
they will remain
but a neglected game of chess
is lost forever
like a hundred times
before today
a poor soul lost his frisbee
smashed to bits
on a city street
dave an’ gary an’ i
buried it
in the sewer
on congress and schaefer
And cups,
a black ashtray sit
together with my button
and do not move.
i sit
and watch
my clothes turning
and the lady,
her girl,
they sit
and watch
me
it has been two years
since that
old blue shirt
has come out
un-wrinkled
and my jeans
are
losing themselves . . . too old
when i am done
when
my shirts are hung
when
my socks are matched
and
my undershorts
are safely tucked
into my laundry bag
i wink at the girl
and leave.