Shoe Shine

The felt letter board says
Boots 6
Shoes five
The 5?
Fallen from its light brown box
But what of the other thin white plastic numbers?
The kit surely shipped with multiples
It is the x that is lost
Only a few of those
Infrequently used
So rare that boots cost more to shine

Box of Bones

I carry a small box of bones in my car, cramped and crumbled, stowed in my glove compartment, insulated by maps and documents, quieting its rattling. The decaying bits of calcium and marrow have been handed down to me through generations, brought over from Russia on a boat, treasured, sheltered, delivered to me from an estate. I don't know who or what the bones are, but they travel with me, always present, whispering to me, guiding, haunting.

The Law of the Swap Meet

If you go to the swap meet looking for a particular item, you won't find it. It's there, the prize you are seeking, but it hides in plain sight, wedged between plastic robots and rusted wrenches, calling your name loudly--over here!--but it is invisible to you because you're searching for it. But the same item will be yours immediately and you can't help but stumble upon it if you go without any expectations, thinking you'll find nothing, hoping you'll discover nada, as it will reach out to you, perhaps several of them, all waiting for you as long as you do not want them, think of them, know them, need them.

The Baby Has Lost His Ass

The baby has lost his ass
Two batteries instead of two cheeks
Out of energy
Frozen in mid smile
Curl atop his scalp
Turn of the head
Pursed lips
Wishing he could crawl
Even if mechanically
Two batteries ready to be
Pooped out
About to topple off a
Bobble head barnyard bank

Praise

Shall we all start praising worthy ones now
Get it over with
Put them on a pedestal
Erect a statue
And agree they are better than us
Or made the human condition better
Broke new ground
Or wait until they die to
Trample on their graves

Peanut Butter on a Spoon

Peanut butter on a spoon
Reminds me of an afternoon
When resting on an outside chair
Clad only in my underwear
While snacking from a large brown jar
And dipping fingers down too far
To scoop up brown infectious goo
Then wash it down with hop-filled brew
Music plays a sad bassoon
To peanut butter on a spoon

Scratch

Do girls itch?
Need to rearrange hanging flesh?
Find a way to scratch or move things without
People noticing?
Men must choose sides
Stack things correctly
Arrange for effect or invisibility
Binding, humidity, close quarters
Demand embarrassing and wonderful attention

Today's Poem

Today's poem won't tell you anything about me
It will remain what it is
Black marks on a page
Words strung together
Random, for all you know
If you're looking for insight into the author
You're in the wrong place
It's static prose that sits and waits
Aiming for inspiration
Finding none
You come here
Seeking
Searching for something, anything
Private challenges
Answers
You won't find that here
Here, where it's always sunny
Where it always rains
Where people pretend
Where all can hide

Sea Change

Searching for a soundtrack to my life, but keep discarding the usual suspects. I yearn for the upbeat and favorite artists, but find myself drawn to the soulful, darkness, where truth sleeps with insomnia, where lost dreams sleep and an uncertain future festers. I land on Beck's Sea Change, drawn to its disguised pain and overt quiet soul that sings of sadness and hope.

Boston

Boston grieves with relief
The dead
The fear
The audacity
Senselessness
Surreal mist covering everything
Brothers in arms
Brothers with arms
Brothers without limbs
Pressure cookers
Backpacks
White baseball caps
A thousand photographs
Surveillance videos
Healthy runners
Focused with single purpose
Cowering in homes
Looking out Watertown windows
A canvas boat cover flaps in the angry breeze

Things That Are Better Than Fighting

Kissing
Eating
Reading
Walking
Driving
Talking
Laughing
Movies
Cigars
Singing
Listening
Cleaning
Flying
Performing
Sneezing
Painting
Shaving
Books
Dressing
Traveling
Gaming
Writing
Coffee
Boxers
Riddles
Authors
Breaking Bad
Lost
Star Trek
Star Wars
Children
Cinnamon Whisky
Loose clothes
IOS devices
Apps
Room service
Shopping
Rolling Stone
Guitars
Harmonicas
Salinger
Hemingway
Cheever
Carver
Roth
Dylan
Costello
Talking Heads
Families
Hummingbirds
Hammocks
Music
The Godfather
Casablanca
Citizen Kane
Spying
Creating
Poetry
Tools
Haircuts
3DS
Adirondack chairs
Fiction
Collecting
Cooking
Zelda
Pikmin
Luigi's Mansion
Animal Crossing
Birthdays
Anniversaries
Everything

Bottle

He holds the empty milk bottle
Considers it as Yorick's skull
A remnant from delivery days
When dairy was served up by a
Chilled truck
The glass has a rough seam
Cloudy and clear
A thumb's rest
In its simplicity
Beckoning the past
His life poured in and out of it

© Poem Fix http://www.poemfix.com 2013
Image: forced007

Honey

The planets
The stars
The rings
The distance
The darkness
That loneliness brings
The ants
The bugs
The snakes
The centipedes
The fear of being dipped in honey
And tied to a stake
The longing
The lust
The statues
The dust

Changing of the Guard

Pushing against the current
To kiss his ring
Be seen and counted
Auditioning
Shining a nose
Ready with something witty
To be remembered and safe
Oh my it's good to see you!
What are you drinking?
I read what you wrote and I totally agree
Now, to back off, pull shoulders in, step back
Better not to overstay welcome
Get out while the getting is good
Give someone else a turn to shine
Then leave without being noticed

Momentum

Some things move at such a deliberate pace that a tipping point is reached and there is no turning back. This momentum, inevitable, is caused by gravity, slope, lack of friction. Or too much friction.

Silent as a Forest

Silent as a forest
Quiet as a rainstorm
Open as a river
Honest as a grenade

Third Act

Friend of mine mentioned his third act, which got me thinking that maybe there's another way, a better way, impetus to take control again after so many years digging in diamond mines and finding only coal, a third act and all it promises, tying up loose threads and finding elusive resolution, perhaps enlightenment before the sun goes nova.

Across the Hudson

Across the Hudson
Ominous
The formidable fortress stands tall and grey against the trees
Inside, hidden and obscured
Inmates, gold, manufacturing, utilities, orphans, chocolate, vampires, untold secrets
Challenging attackers to find a way in
Smoke rises, blowing into the overcast
Settling over the valley
Watching, imposing
Upright in silent testimony
Insidious in its intent
Welcoming in its hunger

Answer

We wince when someone asks if they can pose a question, brace ourselves and prepare to find an answer, to dance, to throw lies and pretend, to sound smart and thoughtful while hoping the answer will satisfy, for now.

I Am An Envelope

I am an envelope
Unopened
Infinite possibilities
Junk disguised as urgent
Handwritten fake font
Message from a lost relative in Argentina
Registered letter from the IRS
Notice of a back ordered purchase
Confetti ready to spew
Announcement of contest winnings
Rejection letter
Ransom note
Congratulations
Bill
Death by a thousand cuts