Triolet

Sitting in the shower

With our legs entangled

It is easy to forget the hour.

Lounging in the shower

Reminds me of the power

in a simple change of angle

Like laying with our legs

Entangled in the shower.

The Baths

I miss the burble

Of the marbled baths

That murmured the

Way children laugh.

I miss the hiss

of the sauna’s steam

its burnished boards,

and its tepid dreams.

I miss the brimming

Pools of umber tea

Bubbling with voices

From beneath the sea.

I miss the key’s cool

kiss upon my skin,

The ice-filled basin,

And the life therein.

City

we are

each a city

peopled by common

fears that sit together on the

subway

and steal

furtive glances

over a make-up compact

and the top of a crumpled

paper

A Chewy in the Sink

Chewy in the sink?

Who’d ever think

Of such a peculiar thing

As a Chewy in the sink?

A kitty in the sink?

No. I saw a Chewy sitting

In the kitchen sink.

Litany of Bones

Let’s bury her body sans the box.

Let’s plant dandelions in the plot.

Let’s laugh, and sing, and shout.

Let’s sharpen our spades

When the weeds begin to sprout.

With beer and wine let’s fill our cups

for the courage needed to dig her up.

Let’s set her bones  in grass to dry

And put clumsy fingers  in her eyes!

Tea

The tea still wet on my lips

Tastes of your kisses

And smothers the city.

The wet tea on my lips

Reminds me of our visit

To that wall’d garden,

Of parted lips, and of tea

That tasted like your kiss.

Free Concert in Washington Park

A girl in a short skirt dances

Next to a tramp that sits

On the lawn sipping warm soda.

The girl in the skirt dances

unaware of her bare knees

And the crowd’s heavy glances.

The girl in the skirt dances

And the tramp finishes his soda.

Disillusionment

on the commute
home
the ivory elephant
walrus
on the street
corner
turns back into
my
broken and discarded
futon

Dance

We met under the midnight shade of the tree. Your heart fluttered in the long line of your neck.

At dawn birds began to sing, squirrels heaped piles of nuts at our feet, and strays howled at the fading moon. But by noon the birds had tired of singing, the squirrels sulked away to hide their nuts, and the strays returned to their alleyways to scrounge for food.

Picnickers snapped pictures with their cell phones. Teens beat their feet against the grass until it became dust. The sweat from their brows pooled and turned the dust into mud. In the mud a pack of boys raped a girl. The police beat people with their shields and batons.The police undressed and danced. The boys picked up their discarded riot gear.

The sun set and the crowd thinned. They returned home to eat dinner and to see if they had made the evening news. Alone and tired from dancing we fell fast asleep.

~for mere

Lorne Michaels is not Coming to Dinner

Lorne Michaels is coming to dinner tonight.

Did I ever tell you how I met him

In Vegas? It was in the 80’s

during his short hiatus from the show.

Did I ever tell you that story?

We watched the MGM Grand burn

In 81’ during his short hiatus

In the parking lot of Circus, Circus.

We watched the MGM burn

And he said you have to laugh

In the Circus’s parking lot

When the sands melt into a sea of glass.

But that was Vegas in the 80’s

And this trailer isn’t exactly the Sand’s.

Lorne might come to dinner tonight

To share a drink and a couple of laughs.