When I was 25

The world was too big
and I didn't know what to do
so I burrowed way down low
inside love
like a naked Mole Rat,
crazed, frenzied,
demented
and blind.
I was a boy, really,
told so
by a woman,
on the phone,
she needed
a man
with money,
" 'cause romance
don't pay
no bills."
Addicted bitch,
but not too high,
wise, even, perhaps,
knowing her own
coked out mind,
spared me,
the stupid kid,
down the road,
my death
when she rejected
my gift-wrapped
bleeding heart.

Tim and I went walking

in late afternoon
along that street,
we watched the sun,
an old hiker
sink homeward
behind trees,
and we,
on the verge
of possibility
and mystery,
marched through
yards where hedges
glowed sci-fi yellow.

We zoned in on
the road,
searched
for a slip-stream
of brunette,
blonde,
or red-headed
hair
undulating
like a flaming
match head.
We could have cared
less
which shade of want,
a scenario
blazed through
our minds:

Car passes,
head turns,
inviting eyes,
bright smile.
Fifty yards up,
it decelerates
to a dusty
stop. Now,
what do we do?

But there were no takers
on our way toward sunset,
only the neighbor wife.
"You guys need a ride?" she smiled.
Suddenly serious,
we shook our heads, no,
and she zoomed away,
probably pitying
two young buffoons
lost in Jasmine
like perfume-drunk bees.

Dusk met us
at the corner store.
We flopped on the steps,
drained of energy
like the sky losing color.
We became night,
humming in our own hives,
not exactly delighted nor defeated,
just two boys
waiting to chase
another day.

Daily Musings

Draped in shadows,
I disregarded the sun,
and remain a stranger...

Joe said,
he who wanders
the avenues
with no eyes
on Nirvana
is an owner-less
dog
on a leash...

In case
there is
no
here-after,
I regard the remark
but  rescind
the fine print...

If Immanuel can't,
who can?

I feel abandoned
like a house
left to the woods

A question to an old friend

What were we learning
while we walked those summer roads
kicking up dust and dreaming
of things we didn't know?

on my way to work

Soaring above a rocky bluff,
vultures high and distant
seem small,
straight-winged mosquitoes
circling in formation,
Calder-esque,
a slow twirling ballet
dancing above
dilemma.