The men appear to be outliving the women. They show up now At the funerals With their so-called Friends. Companions. How quick to judge Are the youngest And supposed Most pious. Let her soul rest, They say. It’s only been Six months, They say. He’s never been alone, The others say. He’ll die as soon …
When your wife becomes a mother, She will not rest until the decorations are up Or taken down, for that matter. Before all this, Holidays weren’t celebrations The way they are now. Before, she only photographed Things like shadows of ducks on ponds, And rhododendrons, and the dog in a necktie. A lot, you once …
For years, I tried to read Don Quixote, Revering the Spaniard writer in me, Skimming a thin abridged edition, Sophomoric in World History. Later, greater windmills. Exotic becomes quixotic. The bookmark stops. Again. Dare you go on, Wannabe pícaro? No. Gracias. We underdogs Know the ending anyway, Some will never get their …
For years I tried to become a Buddhist Fascinated with its harsh simplicity, How it all points back to one. Such is the way, The path to enlightenment That the young rich boy embarked upon, Shunning his worldly possessions for want of nothing. Even the river, The water, The rocks, All metaphor, Not real. Really. …
For years I tried to start smoking, scurrying out before theme parties: Bad Taste Ball, Red Light, Pajammy Jam—to pick up Pall Malls, Only to find the shreds of tobacco slipping past my lips. Tonight, some fifteen years later, I rushed out for a walk, alone, Minus wife, kids, mother-in-law, Left a flat cauldron of …
Do your push ups in the sun, little one. Still spastic, plastic, After all these millennia. We rule the school now! Yet, We’re as big as we’ll ever be. You still have a chance, to dance To pulverize our little bones In your jaws of life.
The final fleeting days, of the dying year, most long for sweatpants. Preserve comfort. Hide side fat. Fashion. At the mall, in this agonizing transition, wear leather ones. They have them now. They foster tranquility and couture. They show you haven’t given up on it all. Not yet.
The New Warrior will get a bachelor’s degree. The New Warrior will get a manicure only on days he interviews. The New Warrior will aim for a high-end outside sales position in a major metropolitan city. The New Warrior will represent a product, service, or basket of products and services for a 300-square mile territory. …
Eat a burrito In the hot sun In a Datsun Alone On a Sunday Not a Phunday Taste the waste Of your life With each bite In paradise You got hair plugs Waxed your chest Invested so much In yourself But for what?
