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A hummingbird’s come
to drink from the blue flowers
it missed the nude man.
☯
Two bums, two beer cans
leering at women–for them
as good as it gets.
☯
Life’s never so good–
Howard Tate’s “Shoot ‘Em All Down”
with gorp, post-midnight.
☯
Piggy-eyed building,
windows were once much wider…
then, parsimony.
☯
Cross-street construction
lets out the most enticing
chord I’ve heard all week.
☯
I envy the young
what they haven’t lived, but not
what they will soon know.
☯
If I had a hole
in the sky, I would still need
to keep my face there.
☯
I smile, not at her
(though she’s not bad), but rather
an eastbound cool breeze.
☯
Two steps from Murphy’s
smell of beer in summer air
finally fades out.
☯
Upstairs, Bible class.
Downstairs, “Exile On Main St.”
I know where I stand.
☯
I could hand my life
to the guy dancing in plaid,
back seat of the 7.
☯
My afternoon shit–
Surprise! It’s now the high point
of each daily trudge.
☯
Empty common room
drained of drama, of gossip…
one shutter cord taps.
☯
Shoulders of concrete;
I shift away from the world
to buckle and crack.
☯
Saturday morning,
a flute repeats its short tune
someone’s cooking pork.
☯
And the mint-leaf plant
cares nothing for our wild plans…
only its breathing.
