That’s Me
by Wayne Jackson (1951-1989)

That’s me, I thought, strange around the edges, the ultimate jackoff, the big ripoff, bloodsucker king, the fuck you man man, the boy lost in a crowd, lip pouting fool. So what? Big damn deal. To hell with it.
It’s something to laugh about. Sometimes I’m not so nice. I’ve got memories to prove it.
We topped out that night at Alfreds. Harry went first, of course. We left him leaning and hugging the fat barmaid, wimpering about some God damn dog he had. Big deal.We’ve all had dogs before for Christ’s sake. Then James. No weepy scene this time, just peacefull dreams in the alley. I left him my coat and walked off. A block later I got cold and went back. “Dream on you shivering bastard”, I said.

Caminhando Em Um Campo De Lirios

Cedo na manhã
O orvalho está na erva
O cheiro da terra
Está nas minhas narinas
O verito no meu cabelo
E um pássaro desperta do seu sono de noite
A manhã está clara
E um pássaro começa voar
As suas crianças tem fome
A mama e a papa
Buscam vermes

(translation to Portuguese by Jodey Bateman)

***

Walking In A Field Of Lilies

Early in the morning
The dew is on the grass
The smell of the earth
Is on my nostril
The wind on my hair
And a bird is waking from a night’s sleep
Morning is clear
And a bird is on the wing
Babies are hungry
And mama and dad
Are looking for worms
***

Mermaid and The Sailor by Charlotte Mair
I”m jealous that the sun may touch your face
jealous of the clothes that wear you well
jealous of the bed that cradles Love by night
jealous of the pillow upon which Love”s head may lay
jealous of the miles that work so hard to part us

Ohhh

I”m jealous of those who gaze those brown eyes
jealous of the photo that locks you from my touch
the room, the stars that shine your face
the coffee cups __ that feel your lips and hands
caress
embrace …

And from this distance
to know not one
To know “¦
only in a dream __ might I see and feel
his hands meet mine
in sunsets, walking shorelines __ creating new prints, in waves of sand
then sweetly share in passion”s kiss

__ Love dissipates
as light of day wisps my room
to then depart on distant shores

To risk a thought__
this life”s lived many a time
knowing well bemoaning __this sailor”s wife at shore
still eyes keep watch and torch well lit by night
even at banshee”s howling calls
We brave the loner”s cry

Hair of amber pales __ silver steals its way

It is well a life of 50 and more
and sure it is __ weary __ this shadow
standing on these empty shores
as Mother Sea reflects these tired aqua eyes

To realize Ones heart is not yet stone
though smoothed by roaring waves
withstanding tests of time

To feel the thunder of love roar through these veins
once more
is torture to a heart that sets to thaw from fathoms

The mermaid is risen
but in so doing __ shall never return to swim
her salty seas
***

LATENIGHT T.V.

2 AM,
Donald and Carla sleep.
They manage the Rendezvous Inn
a cockroach infested
pay by the hour no-tell motel
for a Japanese slum-lord
who lives in Hawaii,
grateful to have this gig
after their hot-tub
and jacuzzi business
died a tortured death.
(forcing them to move in the middle of the night.)

Shut-eye is normally hard to come by
this time of morning.
The Weeping Willow,
a biker bar next door closes down
forcing it’s drunken, scuffling,
engine revving clientele
out into the street.

But tonight’s not so bad,
Carla never wakes,
dreaming of dinner by candlelight
in an upscale Parisian restaurant
this dissolving into discovery
of an original and signed Declaration Of Independence
hidden in the backside of a seascape
she buys from a local flea market.
Donald sleeps soundly as well,
his dreams not nearly as complex.
He’s busy banging out Susan,
Carla’s younger and much shapelier sister
on the industrial dryer in the laundry room.
(The one next to the Coke machine.)

While motel management makes zzz’s
their tabby pisses in the litter-box
and Conan O’Brien introduces Eminem,
tonight’s musical guest,
on a TV set in the living room
that Carla meant to turn off
before going to bed.