JUNK MAIL DAY

It's a junk mail day
Nothing in the box
But ads and rocks
Like on Halloween
When those ladies
Who conserve water
And ride around
On jangly old bikes
Hand you an apple
Instead of candy

SOBRIETY

I keep time

Metronomic
Rhythm

And when that
Beat goes away

I'm in this
Sort of

Gloomy
Mood sway

And really
Need a

Head Change

PURGATORY

Again, not much sleep
And lying there
On the couch
All night
My head's dead &
Nerves jittery is
Like being in an
Uncomfortable
Purgatory
And I much prefer
A comfortable
Purgatory

COUCH

Sore Sunday
My shoulder
And Back in
Pain from
All night
No, not tossing & turning
There's no room for that
On the couch but
Just wishing & hoping
To fall asleep

ANOTHER

Another morning
This one Saturday
Didn't get much sleep
Can't remember any
Dreams
I think I had one or two
And now I'm awake, it's
Not even 8 so
I'll watch more TV &
Hopefully fall asleep until
Another afternoon

WOEBEGONE

Woebegone I
Much prefer to
Woebestay

JUST HER THERE

I have rhythm in my
Shoes as I walk around
With dignity I'm
Always looking for that
Beautiful girl far off who
I'll never catch but a glimpse of
Yet her impression or
Mere existence will dictate
How I'm feeling &
What I'm thinking &
Why I'm still
Breathing

BACKYARD PARTY

I could go out

I don't need to be a
Recluse

My friends, who are
Older like me

Middle age and
Drinking, free of

Crisis they have backyard
Parties with beer and sunshine

Children wobbling inside the
Living rooms and

Their teenagers walking in
Then out with their

Busy friends who cringe
At the site of adults like

Vampires to crosses or
Moths to Flame I could 

Surely go out to a party and see
The friends I used to have when we

Were so much younger I could drink and
They would listen and laugh like when

We were all in the same place before
We had our own backyards

A TECHNICALITY

She's on her way to
The park, walking along

The hot sidewalk in a
Blurry hurry...

God, I'm much too old to
Look at these

Young summer girls

FRIDAY THE 13TH

Another
Afternoon

It's Friday
The 13th

Nothing's happened
So far to lead me to believe

Today will be
Any different than tomorrow

Or tomorrow's
Yesterday

MEMORIES OF HER SILENCE

It's soothing

The Memory
Of her Smile

It's moving the
Impression of her

Lips that don't
Talk or Preach

In that place of
Reveries where

Beauty, not
Opinions,

Can reach

MAZE

For I am stuck
In a sinister maze
Around every turn
Is another corner
Around every corner
Another nowhere

CHECKOUT

At times I cannot
Even go out to buy
Something at a store
For fear of the workers
At the checkout for
They too hate their lives
But their jobs even
More

FAT WOMEN OF THE SUBURBS

I'm really
Sick of seeing

The fat wives along
The avenue

Standing like
The women of

Colonial times
Tough and proud

Intrusion
Not allowed.

I want to
Meet their lithe daughters

Before they too become
These obese guardians

Of the street

DOG THROW

At the park
With my dog

She chases
The tennis ball
I throw and

Doesn't want to
Bring it back
But see

She's on a leash;
I keep it on so

I have control and
She's in reach when

She runs back with
The ball I can

Pull her back and
Grab the ball and
Throw it out again.

And now you know
My daily routine

Twice or even
Three Times Before

The sun hides
Behind rooftops

I run my dog
Ragged

So she can
Sleep.