I awoke in France,

an interior of shabby chic decor with a variety of plants
I glance,
and notice how in and out of balusters on the staircase vines dance

becoming both common and commonplace was romance,
colors that luster putting me in a trance;

powder blue and pale pink to enhance

je passe une bonne journée (I’m having a good day)
I leisurely walked down the Champs-Élysées

after stopping by a cafe,

that was near the Airbnb where I stay

bichon au citron, the pastry of the day

on the champ de mars I lay,
I had never visited Paris before in May

I met a man on the bus
The doors opened and among the throngs of  people
he appeared as if from another age
Dark grey wool suit, fedora, black wingtips
Dapper from afar, but as he got closer

I saw the shine on the suit where it had rubbed up
against other peoples lives
Saw the frayed threads on the right sleeve
where his watch marked the passage of time
Noticed the scuff marks on his shoes

He sat across from me, his lower lip moving
his right hand trembling slightly
I smiled and he moved to sit next to me

And we talked in a halting liturgy
of English and Spanish and gestures
He was on his way to the florist to get
a bouquet to put on his wife’s grave

His wife who died in childbirth thirty years ago
Whose grave he had never visited
because he’d gone back to Mexico with his baby, 
his son, his only memory of his wife whom he loved

And now he was back
back to place flowers on the grave
of the woman he loved and to mourn
the death of his son
buried in a grave in Matamoros

I pulled the rope for him, and he got off the bus
and we moved on

dad’s final soft years
eased decades of strict harsh
my mindset challenged   freed

Dear mothers
who have lost their child
to heroin,
keep a journal
write to her
with love in your heart
breathe, deeply
very deeply
drive around searching for her
if it makes you feel better
practice meditation
employ prayer
garden
create
endlessly.

When you bang your toe and cry “God damn it!”
You call to Me.

When you clasp your hands and hope to Heaven,
It is I, ignoring your prayers. 

Your tithes go uncounted. Your sacrifices rot.

When you wake in the morning
It is because I allow it.

When Yolanda first set up her law practice, it was outdoors
On a street corner in Covington, summer, nineteen sixty five, fifteenth and Byrd
Had a duo temid truck seat up against a brick wall under an awning
Had a do I muted phone booth and a card table
Was her meid to do office. Tod Diuem prominantly displayed

I asked her: “Demit, dou drive a Caddilac but live in a shack
On the back side of the Licking River flood wall, why is that?”
“Cause I was raised there. my Mama lives there,
Waitin’ for me prayin’ for me down by the — wait, that’s a different river
And to your point, I can live in my car but I can’t drive my house”

Then she asked me: “Mut I eddo you know.
You really want to do dat to me?
Let the boss know I been skimmin; on the take?
Them pit bulls is mine and I take what they make in the ring
De doumit.”

She deftly picked a dime from amongst the change on the table
With her sausage sized thumb and finger
Fitted the dime into the slot on the phone booth
“Do de tumi and you be dimed out.”

Slammed her fist on the table so all the nickels amd dimes and casings
And poker chips and broken teeth jumped. 
Then with her big clown smile: “We clear.? Else you find yosef in time doud.”
She pushed the plunger on the phone, retreived the dime
We shook, said: “UT MOID!”

I am writing this note to complain about my bill
This month’s was higher still
I couldn’t afford to buy my pills
My bank account balance is nearly nil
My bookie is ready to kill
Because of you, I wrote a will
Perhaps the Next World will be chill
Enclosed is my check–you know the drill

He puts out a double album, vinyl.
Each side’s a variation of his name
that I can’t read – I didn’t bring dream glasses.  

Side One is simple and shortest –
“I know everything about Transportation”.
It’s a demo.                   

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I’m at a small dinner party he hosts,
a serve-yourself buffet.
The clear plastic plates are small.  

And the food is weird.
Then, I realize it’s vegan turkey roll
showing us there are options.                      

                               # 

I’m in bed, looking at four bookmarks –
vacation flyers with his name and picture.
My wife pleads Can’t we relax this weekend?  

I wake thinking It can’t still be the weekend.
I just trekked a loop in a time traveler’s knapsack.
Now I’m back, buoyed in future’s helium.    

The orchid in the window
bloomed for months,
white with purple
spider veins
like my very 
own skin.
Just when
I thought
they’d last
forever,
the blooms
began to
fall,
                  one
                         by
                              one
                                     by
                                         one.