Classic

Introductions made with the man in the hat and glasses

he fidgets with a transistor radio

I crouch down beside the bed to be able to look up into her face

My thighs immediately begin to burn and I curse myself for being so fucking out of shape

Then back toward her, all ashen skin, wide eyes sharp collar bones

Her twig like fingers wrapped around air and pulling something invisible toward a mouth that gasps

Help me

I want 

I want 

I want

I think “Oh shit”

I’m not going to know 

I won’t know

I won’t have an answer 

I won’t be able to help

Help me

I want 

I want

I want

Her mouth takes bites of the air

My brain gasps for the answer

“we’ve been married for 50 years”

“Where did you meet?”

“Chicago, she’s from Chicago. I never liked Chicago”

“What is she asking for?”

“She loves hot dogs”

“Oh… Ketchup?”

“Hell no, Mustard, mustard’s classic.”

“I heard in Chicago they put celery seed on ‘em.”

“What?”

“Yeah.” 

“No. No way. I’m going to put on the radio, honey”

“How are you doing? Are you eating, how’re you holding up?”

“You know, I do this. I’m here. We’re here. 50 years here.”

“Here’s some Classical.”

The transistor is placed on the window sill adding to the music already in the room.

We Hear Your Voice

The 50 year old’s dying Spanish blue eyes lit up.

Brothers and sisters surrounding him like paparazzi passing a well-worn story around the room

as if bouncing a balloon

it’s dance fluid from years of repeating

enlivened now for a new audience

Each sibling having their cue, for you

They’re telling the one about grandma and her trach

Each grandchild in turn impersonating her robotic voice

“Who took a slice of cake?”

“Did you hear about the neighbor’s son?”

“Wait till I tell your mother.”

All agreed the youngest grandchild who had been grandma’s caretaker at the end did it the best

When a month after grandma’s funeral she called each sibling using grandma’s voice

Causing all jaws to drop and pants to be soiled

Spanish Blue eyes full of laughing tears turns to the Doctor and shares between giggles:

“We use humor to get through these difficult times”

Hiding Places

How bout I collect a bunch of

other people’s thoughts other people’s thoughts other people’s thoughts

cut em up rearrange Sew em up that seems plain

toss a joke in make em chuckle

don’t forget a dose of struggle

Cuz I’ve made a life regurgitating

other people’s thoughts other people’s thoughts other people’s thoughts

I'll trap a bunch, their revelations

Make like their all my creations

Hold at points for crowd ovations

 

I so value the currency of

other people’s thoughts other people’s thoughts other people’s thoughts

In this world of endless noise

Toss and serve - such simple choice

To betray authentic voice

Hold it.

Worldly suffering floats among us

It spirits

From cave to canyon

Randomly lighting 

when in need of attention

From time to time with the moonlight it seeps through a crack in the plaster 

And then I know it's my turn to hold it

My turn to watch it, attend for a while

So that another in this world 

might have a 

Break 

And perhaps the more 

curious 

and 

welcoming

toward it 

the better all around

Better to not quickly wish it away 

Because

when it leaves me it will light on another 

To suffer

and there's no rush for that

bones not thrones

higher power is wrong

names lead one awry

these powers we speak of

don't live in the sky 

they don't come from space

there's no heaven or throne

it's  all in the dirt 

in our ancestors bones

jar full of buttons

jar full of buttons
that I can not loose
pinks greens and blues
that I'll never use

that jar full of buttons
must be never lost
whatever the cost
not misplaced or tossed

although the blouse
long since thrown out
that cardigan
in the salvies bin

but the buttons remain
hellman's jar contained
on grandma's old hutch
untouched

BC Ring

as a kid i

hold dad's hand

and slip off heavy 

college ring

learn to spin it

spin so hard it

turns up on

its ruby thing

faster going

smudgy words see

scratching table

swirling sings

slowing swobbles

tips then stillness

up on to

his hand again