Beat of My Heart

Walk in Maine

Buenos Aires in the Spring

Jackson Hole

Hanging by the fire

sweet alcohol in a glass

constantly close at hand.

Good feelings, positive vibes,

floating around the room.

Flames from the fire

reflecting in blue eyes,

brown eyes, hazel eyes,

warm, warm hearts

burning backsides, sweaty feet

content expressions

thoughtful conversations.

Outside the deadness of winter

brought alive with awe

through admiring eyes,

mouths open and soaring hearts

experienced through glass.

The vision of a moose

seen and smelled up close,

feeling the cold

tasting the dryness

loving every second

appreciating beautiful territory.

Inside again,

sitting around a table

laughing merrily

eating heartily.

Good food, good people

bringing out the best

in each other.

Loving smiles,

squeezing hands,

reassuring looks,

good tunes,

a unique time/place

in a world that’s been

turned upside down. 

A Pathetic Existence

I’ve seen a lot with these eyes of mine. People think I’m too stupid to notice anything but, I do, I notice it all. Take yesterday, for example. What a day. It started off with a semi-homeless guy who I know. He usually spends the night with me but last night he got exceptionally drunk and only made it by the first hours of dawn. I couldn’t be sure where he got the booze, but I think it was that alcoholic who lives over on Mulberry St. She’s always happy to have someone drink with her. Too bad she isn’t generous enough to ever invite him in to clean up after one of their drinking sessions. Instead I get to smell his stinky breathe and soak up his sweat. Anyway, yesterday he arrived, drunk as a skunk, and set about lying down on top of me. Pathetically, I was actually kind of glad for the company, it had been a lonely night for me. But soon enough, a police officer came along and it turns out that my homeless guy had gotten into some kind of trouble, of the running down the street naked after a girl variety. He got arrested and I got to be alone again.

At about ten in the morning there was some new excitement. Another sorry looking guy who looked like he was running from someone caught sight of me and came my way. He checked me out from five feet away then came closer and, you’ll never believe this, took a piss on me!! What has the world come to??? He took a piss on me then walked away as I stared at him, speechless. He even had a little smile on his face, the bastard!

Since I’m incapacitated from moving and there was no one around to rinse me off I breathed in the raunchy smell of his urine, fuming silently, until it finally rained shortly before lunchtime. It made me cold and wet for a while, but it was still a relief.

At lunchtime I was joined by a couple of cops on their lunch break. They usually avoided me, but it seemed that they wanted to get away from their usual routine that day. They didn’t seem to mind my smell and were with me for about an hour, in which I had to contend with their heavy weight and still listen to their conversation about a drug trafficker who they were trying to get a commission from. It blew my mind that they were so careless about who was listening, but I guess I didn’t present much of a threat.

I finally had some time to myself that afternoon, which I used to get some much-needed rest. It was only at nightfall that I saw some excitement again. A couple, making out against a tree, didn’t notice me quietly watching them. They seemed so in love, it was something I would never have. It made me kind of sad until the guy started getting a little too pushy and the girl started getting a little scared and then, right in front of my eyes, as I stared immobilized, he raped her and left her there, tears running down her throat.

Right before midnight I got to witness another wonderful example of humanity. As I was sitting there, just thinking about my day, two guys ran past me, the one in front gripping a briefcase close to his chest and the one behind him aiming a shotgun. Just before they left my line of sight I saw a shot being fired, once, then twice, then a third time. One of the shots caught my foot and the other two shots caught the man with the briefcase. The shooter didn’t bother with me. He checked the victim for a pulse, grabbed the suitcase, threw the gun on a grassy area nearby and took off.

It really isn’t easy being a bench.

The Rug Beneath Her Feet

A beautiful Oriental rug it was

My balance on top it kept

All the designs met up articulately

A geometric pattern presented perfection  

Cherry, alabaster and moss intertwined

A regular routine – hard, taxing work

Little time for dreams, instead tiny pink pills

Glamorous events and beautiful leather

And silk and pearls and red, manicured nails 

Champagne in flutes, paintings on the walls

One bitter night when owls didn’t hoot

Coming home from a glorious affair

My heels ceased to meet with soft tapestry 

The room had become a burial ground

Only lingering ghosts shimmied around

I used to eat gourmet ice cream on the rug

With a precious, elegant silver spoon

That I usually reserved for special occasions

Beauty had been a constant in my life

Until a fast moving car, a driver awry 

A split second, no time to ponder even

He picked me up in his frustrated drive

He left me as scattered fragments of a person

My beautiful Oriental rug dissipated 

In a cloud of smoke

Into thin, flimsy air 

I resurfaced in a cold, metallic room

Latex coated hands inches from my face

Surrounded by screaming red and sterile white

Months later, my face a patchwork

An ancient, wrinkled map of rivers

And streams and waterfalls running into each other

My feet walked on cold, stone ground 

Until I decided to reconstruct the gap 

Between my feet and the depths of the Earth

My beautiful Oriental rug

became a field, plowed in the spring 

In preparation for the harvest

Gold, weaved through glorious rose and auburn

Winter seeds sown into the ground

I was thrown into another life

But I embraced it, indeed I graced it

blooming with the beauty that I found
had been inside, all along. 

Fun Winner in the Winter

Winner 

Rhymes with dinner

A sport for the sinner

Wouldn’t you agree?

Then why not make it three?

Ok, that’s wasn’t the best rhyme

But, rhyme, reason or season,

When is a better time?

Time for what?

Why, for being silly!

Why not?

I’d rather be Fun Billy

Than boring Sally May

Anyday! 

To give and not hold back, I want to be

To be outside frolicking in the outdoors,

to be dancing indoors, high on being alive,

pulsating with the rhythms.

Eating crusty bread with wine, chocolate and almonds,

drinking cups of milky, sugary tea. 

Sleeping, cozy and warm, under a multicolored blanket, 

a vase with white flowers,

a kiss on the forehead.

To smell amazing, to smile lazily,

to fill my chest with air and exhale with confidence.

To feel proud of a perfect stranger 

and, after a long day,

take a walk in the moonlight and get

butterfly kisses from the rain. 

Disgrace

Under the brazen surface of disgrace,

beneath the scum that we are

lies the mercury that heats us from the inside,

propelling us forward, tumbling, stumbling

for survival.

Covering the tracks with fake beauty,

Underneath we are beasts of instinct.

We don’t even know, half the time,

why we do what we do. But,

We do.