Posts for 2020 (page 133)

My new beau whistled
a movement
as we passed the songbirds in the bushes:

by way of apology,
he explained
“that’s the Snow White in me.”

Running across
a railway overpass
in full sun,
I startled a mouse.

With no hesitation,
he took a hard right
and ran top speed off
the side of the bridge,

clearing it by two feet,
plunked on the tracks,
and, slightly shocked,
walked away.

Yellow Neon Synapse  
yellow neon shoes
bring attitude
to the street walking
man’s pedal extremities
he strides with pride
has spring in his steps
walks with purpose
his forward moving feet
take me back in time
to kinky toe sucking
sweet    erotic  
at 15 a brand-new feeling
at 65 toes tongued once
in my lifetime 
a memory…
still alive      won’t die     worth keeping      

I’ve run at breakneck speed
all my life
to not be my parents.
Maybe I can stop now
and walk.

All my life I’ve filled my head
so as not to be empty.
Maybe now I can let be.
I love smelling soup
on my fingers.

I’ve been given permission
to return to an old way of being,
stay home, live simply.
What a relief not to be driven to excess.

If we are at end times,
maybe I can breathe deep
be filled with grace.

Life is full of ups and downs,
Twists and turns,
Peaks and valleys,
Happiness and pain, 
You’ll spend much of your time in those vallies,
But if you just keep looking skyward,
Towards those peaks,
The valliy of despair becomes less deep,
And the happiness of the peak is in reach

I order chicken because it’s cheaper.
They say all they have is mixed fish.
I ask for a medley of marlin and tuna.
They say “How about cod?”  
They hand me two bills,
one higher than the other.                 
                                                I complain. 
They explain I’ll be charged only once
and look at me like I’m stupid to not
understand.                 
                       I think I won’t know if they’re
telling the truth until my credit card statement
arrives and by then this shop may be gone.                        

                       They smile.     
       
            I leave and later realize            
            they never gave me the fish.

Famished foodies rave about Noodle
Nirvana’s fresh

mangoes, handmade zucchini
noodles, crisp

smell of lime and lemongrass — but who
gives a rat’s ass? I nestle

into El Rio Grande, housed in an old
Hardees, where mariachi

polkas and corridos twist
in the air like ghost

lovers striding the tango to the trumpet, that
gleamer, and five thumping

strings of the little vihuela. It’s not just
the dangling chili

pepper lights, tissue paper
roses, rainbow serape, or bull

piñata, Roberto remembers my Chori
Pollo and coaxes me into fried

ice cream, while I crack my new
journal and scratch poems.

press my lips to your neck.
fingertips trace patterns on your skin.
hands find the small of your back.
look at you, for a long time.
set you free–
the prison of
love and hate.
release the cruel tether
and fly,
the sun
before you.

The ex shall conform to volume of Guidelines

Prepare ex by taking the following actions:

Suppress writing prompts and informational messages.

Ignore and assume the type incapable.

On any system, it shall be an error to specify more than a single option.

Determine the interpretation of single behavior, the classification, and the detection of boundaries.

ex shall not write or text.
ex shall behave.

Otherwise:
all input shall be discarded.

the effect shall be as if the ex was nonexistent.

—
Found poem (erasure) from Linux Man Pages
Original text at:
https://man7.org/linux/man-pages/man1/ex.1p.html

ten years
later
and i just
found out
i’ve been
fighting
the wrong 
monster 
all along.
i am
so tired
of  being your
savior
i just want
to be your
god.