I Do This I Do That

Walking the city’s downtown streets
and it is Friday and it is night
the Steelheads are playing
and when they finish Old Chicago will fill
with fans and stars so I walk past,
see the fountain at City Hall full of soap again
the Egyptian is celebrating seventy five years
by showing silent films and letting the organ sing
but not feeling like sitting I turn left down Main
dodging hot dog carts, turn right on Sixth
where Trevor at Toad’ stamps my hand
pretending I paid admission,
but first it’s the Cactus which is crowded
and Barb brings orange juice before I order
outside Todd walks by with gutter punks
inside Jessica finds me so now we go
to Nampa with Amber who headlocks and drops
a stranger to the ground for stereotyping my tattoos
back to the car, I drive us to Crickets
where Shanna serves us the stiffest drinks
and as always the orange juice is free.

She Knows

She knows rain
drops alone to earth,
gathers together first as
pancake sized puddles
eventually ankle drowning
gutter strangling swamps.

She can never resist short
lived bodies of water.
Dirty earthed odors cause
toes to squirm against
black stockings, placid
pools catch her eye.

She leaps each time with
the passion of twenty springs
past, sends spray to the sky
soaks hair as she bounces
down potholed streets.

She knows rain doesn’t come often.

Crystal’s Children

Those were the days of chicken headed homeboys
Strutting clucking scratching for gak,
Scraping together enough cash to split a teener between them
Fighting for the attention of platinum pleated hood rats,
Sporting homemade tats crashing hotel parties
Killing fifths of Bacardi, stealing and selling
Forgotten twenty-twos found in shoe
Boxes found in the backs of grandparent’s closets,
Selling smoke from Cadillac trunks
And some grew thinner some grew to understand
Most grew apart.

And these are the days when the world barely pauses
As a six-year old boy pulls out lighter spoon and needle
Demonstrating how he gives his mother daily insulin shots
And shows more than he ever meant to tell.

Around the Time

My talent was tasting
tequila on a Mexican
beach watching waves

My desire lay in the
rain counting drops
drumming on eyelids

My laughter was riding a
pink bicycle in circles
thumb chiming a bell

My curiosity was arrested
in a pet store with two
kittens and a handful of firecrackers

My wisdom was spinning
in a backyard tire swing watching
the sun roll in and out of view

My sorrow was listening
to a field of night noise
guessing crickets from grasshoppers

The rest of me wandered
lonely through the kitchen
waiting for the phone to ring.