Twenty Twenty-One

I miss the serendipity. 

The spontaneous get together.

The unplanned park sit.

The unexpected subway encounter.

The cheeky drink.

The casual dinner hang.

The spur-of-the-moment trip.

The off-the-cuff lunch.

The impulsive purchase.

The offhand remark.

The impromptu slice.

The coincidental arrival.

The surprise party.

The unrehearsed busker.

The snap decision.

The impetuous workout.

The unscripted show.

The random act of kindness.

The unpremeditated murder.

The chance sighting. 

Instead, I’m sat inside staring at a thesaurus. 

When we grow old

I’ll sip genmaicha from a borrowed mug.

You’ll drink Italian reds

And hum “A Hard Day’s Night”

While you type.

Catch-all

Knick-knacks and pocket lint,

pens, and old cigarettes.

Play with crumpled receipts—

all the things she didn’t need.

Risk

No one remembers

who dodged the bullet.

History remembers

who caught it.

sand in your socks

Astronauts suit-up for spacewalks. They fearlessly tumble through zero-gravity doorways, listening to the steady tones of life-monitoring systems and the calming voice of a mission partner, as they move into the great silence. They hurtle through space, tethered to their ships, weightless. Objective achieved. Back to the safety of the ship—leaving a little more of the universe known. Their bravery and heroism met with shiny, elemental medals:pieces of the earth given to the bravest adventurers.

Beach-goers suit-down for beach walks. They fearlessly tumble through the gravity-drawn waves, listening to the steady droning of the life-giving ocean and the sharp cries of seagulls, as they move into the great deep. They drift through the sea, untethered to their land, weightless. Objective achieved. Back to the demands of the day—leaving a little more of their own life known. Their bravery and heroism met with tiny, elemental medals: pieces of the earth given to the bravest adventurers.

2020

This christmas

is more snow globes

than caroling.

And that’s okay—

there’s always next year.

plagiarism

it’s sold a billion copies

to a million authors.

The greatest fiction

ever written:

“Writer’s Block”

Din din

Crescendo bleeds together

punctué par POPs.

Applause.

The Din settles

Whilst the din rises.

Melting wax fills the air.

Amber. Rosemary.

Bondi Beach. (clack. clack.)

uws

The weightless ambivalence of the lady in hunter boots and a turquoise pencil skirt delivering a soliloquy to no one in particular on the corner of 72 and Columbus became more apparent as the words:

"Now get the FUCK off of my land, alright?" reached my ears.

(Fall, 2017)

the specials

overwrought

with the plethora

of possibility,

the day and the 

server beckon 

equally. 

Fish Food

“Enjoy feeding our fish”, the sign said. 

“Only 25 cents.”

And when the little children arrived, 

So did the big fish.

Most dangerous game

Soreness seeps across my joints.

Tiredness floods my fibers.

A wave of age swells

To crescendo.

Stem the rising tide

With ice and Aspirin,

Yoga, and the meaty sounds

Of hands slapping flesh

For $45 an hour.

sugarcoat it

Life, like coffee

or an Old Fashioned,

shouldn’t be too sweet.

It hides the natural flavors

of discomfort

that you only appreciate

with experience.

no fare

excuse me,

ma’am. 

the bee in this train car

does not have a ticket.

redundancies.

The ranks are thinned,

Desks emptied.

Remainder looking-on

Like male-pattern holdouts.

The worse are better-off for

Leaving the better behind.

to draw

I force my stubborn hands on

Unlearned, unresponsive, unyielding.

Bleeding ink, but never surrendering life.

Until I snap — the network heavy-laden

Another connection unforged.