Croak

Ugh- the same, tired ol’ shit. I will walk past her house again, the same house I’ve passed since I was no more than ten. I knew as much about love then as I do now and I never want that to change. I remember the time she invited me to play on the trampoline in her yard. I grazed her arm, still the thing I remember most in each of my lovers. That feeling really grabs me to the core.

As each step rings heavier the closer I get to her parents’ home, I realize I am far, far away. I realize that as a Frenchman in Paris, croaking out the broken lines I know so well, romancing every woman in sight, none of this matters. Thousands of lovers surround me on the street, knowing so little of each one, but knowing everything I need. I tell them we should sleep together, but to sleep is so sad.  I steal a new car every time I get tired of the last. I enter each scene by matching a cigarette that never leaves my face. Avoid! Avoid! Avoid memory’s broken promise.

I am pursued by bumbling inspectors, somehow they know everything I do and have done the moment I do it, but I always elude them. I dodge and dive behind posts, newspapers, large hats and glasses. I am immortal, there is nothing they can do. There must be tens of thousands of apartments I can duck in, each one with another unsuspecting lover; each one an enemy once they can see through me. I can’t stay long, but I linger enough to burn through a few cigarettes and their sheets.

 

Betrayed again!

 

I can hear her phone call from the other room. This time, I know I am through. This one will run to me though, I just know it, as I am gunned down in the street- my last breath a trail of smoke. I will say something nonchalant about finally resting. Or bemoaning the love of an informer. Or that I finally achieved my greatest ambition- to become immortal… then to die. It doesn’t matter, really. You wouldn’t run to me, and I am just a coward hiding in each doorway, behind the daily paper, and in comically large hats and glasses. A coward who will never betray his love enough to let you hold it again.

 

 

Testament

The stench hits me square in the nose;
Coconut oil, flowery perfumes, ethnic foods, piss, feet.
The city bus lurches forward as I try to un-crinkle my dollar bill.

I stand, hanging from the cross bar like some loser King Kong, swatting flies like attack planes.

Some special kid starts singing a Smashing Pumpkins ditty
Missing every note, probably getting every word wrong, though it’s hard to know for sure.
Contrite on the page but I’ll squeal all the rats in the caaaaaaaaaaaaaaage.

The face of an attractive enough woman is inches from my crotch,
Her seated body phony enough to show she lives in Orange County.
She fans herself with a pocket New Testament, though it’s rather chilly–

As if to cleanse the air around her with her Jesus, more than anything.

I feel her looking at me, but I keep looking away,
I’m one of those people, the kind that avoids eye contact with strangers.
But something inside is calling for me to say something, just this once.

You know, I’m Old Testament where it counts I say to her in a hushed voice.

She covers her giggling mouth with her tales of salvation,
Masking the sun damage, smoker’s wrinkles, and inexplicably white teeth.
I’ve got her figured out, I’m going to hell.

Cold bran take a hook from you knife, I’m a cockeyed Jew.

Good To Go

So, I’ve jumped on the blog train- all aboard! I don’t know whether my back deserves a pat or a good flogging for this exercise in self-indulgence, but if I’m going to hone my craft at all, it’s time I began sharing my work and whittling my erratic thoughts into something cohesive. That, and I just ate an entire plate of cookies and I like the excuse that my brain will be burning the calories.

Bare with me, poetry’s been my focus recently. I have several flash fiction stories I’m going to put up, and I’ll start getting back into short stories in the coming weeks. So, I’m rolling up my sleeves, brushing away the cookie crumbs, and putting on Spotify, expecting to get to work. Okay, I’m not really wearing sleeves.  And cookies are still calling my name. I’ll get to work eventually!