May 2000

BEGGAR
Ebony stillness, rag
wrapped, under the streetlight. Bugs
swarm in the halogen halo, while
he awaits charity and receives disdain.

PREDATOR
Immaculate and stone cold sober,
he only liked girls that fell off
bar stools. Looming above,
huge hairy hand extended, nails
buffed, he helped them up.
Charming banter and impeccable smile,
ignoring their slurring sloppiness, he
craved their visceral wetness, a
pre-dawn meal.

WHERE PARTS JOIN
The hollow of a tender throat, a chalice,
from which to sip sanctity. Swelling
breasts meet ribs, hours of diversion, delirium,
wonderment. Inside of elbow and back of knee,
ticklish soft vulnerabilities, waiting to be teased, lovingly
tormented. Wrist and ankle, neglected and lovely,
fulcrums of touch and locomotion. Finger
and toe, wriggling delights, to chase and capture,
release, and chase again. Ambrosia center, a mystery,
intoxicating, maddening, and captivating me entirely.

ALTRUISM
Clattering change in a cup
brings her food and me satisfaction.
Charity always self-serving in some
measure. Altruism merely a word, for
it cannot exist purely. Not that it diminishes
the act of kindness.

HOT TOO SOON
Summer's heat brings mixed blessings.
Each pore on my scalp a spigot, gushing
sweat, running in my eyes and drip, drip, dripping
down my neck, august discomfort in May. The
feast for my eyes, winter coats shed for tank tops
and capri pants, fresh youth barely concealed, flaunted,
straining, candy before a diabetic, sweet and unwise.

AGING
Missing the elasticity of youth, skin
and spirit no longer plump or vibrant.
Slow to heal from injury, within and without,
scabs and scarring far more evident and permanent.
Fewer trees climbed, instead, looking into
the canopy, frustrated, frozen, afraid. Exploration
slowly traded for grey oblivion.

POOR LITTLE DEAF GIRL
She can still hear the music of
her father, viscous and flowing, washing
over her, wave upon wave of rhythmic joy.
Back seat blaring, living room dancing,
spasmodic, twirling, blurred. She learned
ecstasy from him, before the world went
slowly silent, before he died. Clucking
neighbors blamed, making middle class
assumptions, ignorant to congenital defects.
She can still hear the music of
her father, for he filled her, pouring
digital rapture, because time was short.

REVELATION
Shadowed step on broken concrete
looking for a chance to cross,
wary of rumbling wheels.
Darting across traffic, risking.
DAMN! Just the same over here,
The cars just go the other way.

IN A MOOD
Frustrated and wanting to find
a deserving target where there
is none. "It'll get better", or "Is
there anything I can do?" well
intentioned friends intone. FUCK
OFF! Let me be! Let me withdraw
and stew. It will pass in time, I'll be fine.
Just angry at myself, angry that I'm
angry. Take your platitudes and shove'em up
yer ass, I don't want to hear it. Know
enough to give me distance or I'll
engulf you with my hate just waiting
to unleash this nameless rage.

FLAVORS
Sweet, Crazy, or Bitter?
I think I like crazy-bitter, for
it lets me be sweet. To rail
and moan, and howl at the moon
with sharp-toothed snapping jaws,
it feels alive, or, watch and wait
with patience, it feels wise. Both
have their place, and both outshine
bland ambivalence.

BIGOT
Wary at his approach, this sinewy
brown fellow staggers closer. By
mornings' light, he is ragged and smudged.
"Un cigarette?", he asks, deferentially
gesturing, bloodshot eyes search my face.
I give him two, with one hand, the other in
reserve, tense. He needs a light, I oblige,
not handing over the Zippo. Cupping the flame
with strong hands tipped by broad flat nails, he
smiles, a perfect white-toothed smile, "Gracias."
"De nada." I mumble, hating my fear, unable
to meet his gaze.