September 2000

BARLIGHT
Nursing the drink back to death.
Filed smoke, an ashy spear over the
corpses of the previous seven.
Swirling wrist, tinkling cubes,
practiced music, now involuntary.
"'Nother round here."

BUDGET CUTS
Brown barbed wired keeps me out
fingers in the chain-link.
Green smudges forced up
through dark cracks. Four-square
lines worn to ambiguity.
Swing chains slack,
no echoing squeals, nor calls,
"You're it!"
Net-less hoops, long-shadowed
mute sentinels, guard memories.

TWIN BALLOONS
Before the train lurched to a stop,
she staggered past in the aisle,
clutching two balloons. One
yellow, one green. Smiling, I
acknowledge her, she frowns
and turns, hiding the balloons,
as if breasts from an adolescent.
Shrug?

AFTER RAIN
Twin puddles in parking spaces
mark the location of absent
tires. Unseen pressure in asphalt;
molding, denting, now holding memories.
Fortunate, for it can be resurfaced.

SPRINKLER
The sprinkler head at the end is
absent. No uniform mist quietly nursing
life. Solid from a distance, the quicksilver
arch, one leg on the ground, is suspended.
Closer, the spattering enriches the sidewalk,
no longer grey. Running its tracks, now racing,
over curb and pungent blacktop, to a storm drain,
until it falls away into darkness.

WEDNESDAY MORNING
Shrugging on her backpack this cool morning, she
is embarrassed to kiss in front of her classmates.
"See ya Dad"
With prideful melancholy he hopes
she eats her sandwich and is not ashamed
of the note he added to her lunch while
she was still sleeping.

WEARY
How long to learn to sit quietly
watching, waitful. As a coiled spring,
or a seed long dormant, awaiting action,
ready to burst forth. Weary of rust and
and infertile fields, weary of patience.
No longer sure of active potential,
afraid of atrophy and distrust,
hating impotence.