Poems

Regardless of the weather,
They walked the same walk
For forty years, from the same
Small office on the second floor
Of the same building, on the
Same corner, in the same city.
Each day down the stairs to
The same street about four
Blocks to the same coffee house
That had the same coffee to go
With sugar and half and half,
A remnant of having been born
In a small town in rural Ohio.
Perhaps the sugar, the half
And half helped to explain
A stout sidewalk shadow
Against the morning sun.
His constant companion,
Tall, dark, angular in the
Inimitable black beret matched
To black shoes, black pants,
Black shirt, black jacket.
The black cane raps the walk
In exclamation over something
Said along the well worn way.
They patiently wait as they
Have for the last forty years,
As they will wait into eternity.

I cull memories today to see
How yesterday might have been,
With bits of editing, here and there.
Perhaps, opportunities for films,
Novels, poems, essays, epics,
Multimedia productions that
Put proper light on what
Happened. Meager memory
Serves in witness to hours,
In witness to what was said,
In witness to what was heard,
In witness to ways of having
Been once upon a time.

Twentieth day with the septic tank
That’s brimming full with shit-soaked roots
It’s full of feh, it’s dark and dank
And smells real bad from yucky poots

We dug it up and found it fetid
In need of fixing, outflow broken
Our love for this is rather tepid
We shoveled much with curses spoken

So now we fix it P.D.Q.
And scoop the roots, such icky fun
We’ll lay the pipes and stick with glue
Then fill the ditch and call it done

Anxious clouds hurry across
Late afternoon blue skies
Like Alice’s white rabbit
Worried they are too late
To participate
In sweet sunset

My Fair Lady

Rhythmic dancing feet
Two pianos on the stage
Words and passions meet

Hats descend to heads
Just before the song begins
Off to the races

Time is meaningless
The street where you live awaits
So long as you’re there