after taste
cold coffee in nicotine stomach
tasting like an overdose
smelling like dirty ashtrays
nasty thoughts spoken into bubbles
electronic drawing to their source
truth in lending spending polluting now
holy cow disease
golden calf
white elephant
white buffalo
tom tom tom
heart chakra open
truth burns
truth heals
truth plus justice equals peace
– Summer Breeze
***
PEG ZERO GHETTO WALK
cruising down ellice,
reggie collecting drug money,
pawn shops on every corner,
laundromat stinkin’ and ugly,
-25 outside, snow blinding bright
reggie he talking with street punk
doing laundry living normal and clean
he tall and wiry and insane and precise
old lady doing laundry counting pennies
ragged clothes cursing in foreign language
reggie short on his take this week in trouble
he sees old lady arguing with owner no money
walks over pays for her laundry she afraid but not for long
he walks her home carries laundry bags right up to her apartment
has tea they talk and smoke cigarettes apartment small but very clean
she from portugal he from barbados they together in peg zero thirty years apart
the wind howling through the streets,
the snow piled high on every corner,
he alive,
she alive,
late on rent,
late on drug money
ain’t it a kick?
Tangled Up
We don’t agree on much of anything.
I despise the tv shows she watches.
It’s a rare movie that we both like,
don’t even start with politics,
forget about religion,
fashion, friends, cars, colors,
hobbies, chores, work, credit cards,
any favorite thing, how to drive across town,
brands of soup, breakfast food,
when to eat, when to sleep, what to do,
none of this we agree on,
but
at night we sleep all tangled up
_Spending_
The window blinds carve
thick black lines across the carpet
and the clocks in each room
each tick slightly differently; mildly frantic
you are stretched across your
low bed, “Thinking,” you say, “making space
for myself”
banded darkness underscoring
the tendons of your hands and the alternation
between us.
Your roommate’s eternal music
glistens like a plate of marbles
rolling under the door
from the next room,
the depth of our quiet
pouring like oil
into the shared
bowl of afternoon