Ernesto

The Spanish are not known for their manicures (that's the French). But Ernesto's sticky fingers, long from thousands of Atlantic miles, have been slapping my windows for some time.



I travelled this week. Well, honestly, I didn't. I tried to travel this week. More or less I dragged myself places, got sick, felt better, dragged myself other places, got sick, felt a little better, and dragged myself home. Me and all my bags. I want a massage.

How cliche is it that I always write on the trains. Am I really stuck in the expectation that riding cross-country relieves the mental lapses and writing blocks? At least I don't pretend to drink coffee while I'm scribbling long passages in my notes.


Easy Leisure, in Excess

The electricity comes on
when you twist the bulb
with a shirt to protect your fingers.

The water comes on
when you twist the faucet
with grit to bear the cold.

The heat comes on
when you twist my fingers behind me
in step with a poor man's waltz.

~

(Brusque: as Butcher's Broom)

Recent resent, give and gave again.
Popular concept, ch-ching, consume again.
Time to, run, and ran away at 10:00.
replete suspension, to correct pre-tension,
Sit atop the fence, and
Morning after, Plan B, walk of shame, blend.
Bake at 375, 50 minutes or until intended.
Park and ride, park and walk, park and reverse.
Cleats and sneaks, dress and jumper--
Hey, we got a jumper.

~

Paucity

Heavy night rains from off the coast of Africa
you're somewhere in the city,
somewhere between those lights.
In the wake, I know what I'll find:
I am empty, I am soluble
I match word for word to my horoscope.

New York will never be the same.

If I could fix the words
I picked the first way
If I might join the synonyms together
to say I'm done would be a lie
I would wrap it into a story
instinctively backing away
It might change New York for you
up against those endless magnetic lights.