dusk

It’s dusk
and I’m finally feeling my third beer.
You’re looking at me
without concern,
or maybe you’re not looking at me at all.
Whose stare is it
that I feel so distinctly?

It’s dusk
and you haven’t called —
not that you said you would,
but I’ve been practicing the ability
to inflict my will
upon the Cosmos.
Evidently I’m doing it wrong.

It’s dusk
and I’ve forgotten your name.
On second thought,
I never knew it.
We’ve never met.

It’s dusk
and I’ve given up
looking for fireflies.

deeply moved

Since my workplace is moving today, I thought I’d revisit the 15 or so places I’ve called home. The subject was already covered in this post a few years back, so I thought I’d mine the same territory in the form of a Google Map. Zoom out to see “The Big Picture”.


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happy can

how now?

stump

the landscapers took way too long...
and when they finally hit me up for a grand and a half
there was a bonus:
they would chop down the old tree
and grind down the stump for half price.
I stared at the foreman,
a beet-faced fuck
chewing an unlit cigar,
and then at the tree —
a wooden swing hanging from a rope,
initials carved into the bark
and crossed out,
and I stared back:
“Yeah, chop it down.
But forget about half price —
I don’t need your charity.”

faith

without intending to be iconic
we stopped halfway across the bridge
staring into the stagnant water below,
crowded with weeds and plastic coffee cups.
I was the first to break the silence:
“there’s a place
not too far from here
where I used to find myself
by getting lost...”
she interrupted me:
“I see it.”
“but it’s not visible from here.”
she smiled.
“I know.”

We're Everywhere

...or so it says here.