Book o’ Verse

Waiting outside the theater
--dink.
his mother's umbrella opened
accidentally
into the backside
of his buzz-cut head.
--dink.
--dink.

He blinked.
He tightened.

  --dink.

summer midnight
in the city

and
the bridesmaid
just walked past
without her shoes on.

It's a
young man's
game.

Never chew
gum in an
airplane bathroom.
Because if you do
your gum will taste
like an airplane bathroom.

they're chatting
in front of the register
lit softly   by streetlight

and if you only saw
the look on his face

her back   to you

   her hands
on   her hips

     straight black hair
sliding over

     casual
tilt

   you'd never guess 

she was an
eighty-year-old widow.

espresso, green tea.

I mean, seriously.

How much
more
married

can you be?

Trying to cover
the three of us
with one umbrella.

My naked hand out for a cab
full-body soaked as that
car roared by 

and I was wet and cold and pissed.

Then giving up
counting our change
to catch the crosstown bus

climbing onboard
paying our fare
and me

   surprised to find it
half-empty in the rain.

Yesterday
I really let him jump on me
let him throw himself into me
like some red-headed salmon
and me the current
his feet slapping the waves.
He was laughing, slap-laughing
and flying, slap-flying.
And then I was the sand
and he was the ocean
and he stretched me apart and he wore me down
and he sent me
streaming
out to
sea.

He talks in a low hum
with no air between the words.
He fills all the space.
He fills all the space.
Hefillsallthespace.
He’s like crickets.

He sat down sobbing
into his hands.
50 cents
and he wanted them
to give him a dollar for it.
Retarded. “I hate math.”
And I just wanted to have lunch.
Then he stood, bearded
burly Thor
retarded.
“I hate math!” again
looking back
through his beard
over one thick shoulder.
And he thundered off.