Hand Off

I wouldn’t mind
giving my lust to
some wandering saint
with no shoes      I’d tell him
not to take it all at once
Try a little and see
where it leads you;
if you like it, take a little more.

My Shame

Hotdogging in the dive
relating the toss.
Glassy, but thankfully, not

            in the eye.
Cognizant of the outrage.

With flurries swirling,
the group assembles.

            The hand is dealt.


                  * * *

I immediately draw the joker
and tell him I’m not there.
Hoping for the queen of hearts
I am caught in the steely gaze
of the Jack of clubs,

            until I am forced to fold.

The Bar Down the Street

Before the doorman can check id’s
   a young man
      stops us.
        ‘It’s my birthday.
            You have to kiss me to get in.’
               He presents his cheek;
I kiss it without hesitation.

On stage, a woman is riffing
   and rhyming and whooping
      and cursing. The paired sexes
         applaud voraciously. A beauty
            pageant is underway. Thursday nights
               are a drag.

‘Johnny Black, rocks for me and
   Jim with a splash of coke for my
      friend.’ He doesn’t short us on
         volume. For the 2nd
            the female bartender ignores me.
               ‘I’ll have to get HIS attention,’
I say.

As we are leaving, there’s a disagreement
   over who was getting checked out.

Wheelchair Wares

100 feet down,
I see
an old man. He’s in a
wheelchair, missing his
right leg…amputated above the knee.

What do you do when you
sit outside the Mart?
I see you at least twice
a week, always in the gloaming.

While I throw a fag from my perch, a
young blond & her beau emerge.
He shows her some jewelry (a pretty
bracelet for a pretty lady, perhaps?);
she seems keen on the idea.

So, you’re a traveling salesman,
peddling your wares? Do you
have a schedule you keep? What other
buildings do you scope?

The girl likes what she
sees. A deal is struck and
she hugs him. I see no money
change hands.

He takes his three boxes
of goods and
puts them in this Aldi’s bag,
waiting for the next customer.

Ten Cents

ah, refreshing

hah hah

you’re always with somebody

but as long as you chuckle

when you receive my texts

it’s worth it

Drive Thru

Ate that Spicy Jack
     on the way home.
It was not a dream,
     it was not an
     incident.

Waste Management

This hollow well-worn feeling the next
day, the trunk and limbs unhappy with the fruit,
with non-material desires, thoughts not even
the weight of air, urges not composed of
atoms like a liver or a spleen.  When dead
they disappear without smoke or ash, swim
not in the longest-river bloodstream yet
still they are a poison, can taint going forward,
must be dumped somewhere.  How about
into the psyche, to be burped up and
(hopefully) dealt with as dreams, the only
chance we have to banish invisible wishes.