Some Guy
Some guy committed a crime,
and some guy investigated
some guy was bereft of life,
and some guy was beside himself
with loss. Some guy picked up
the phone to make a call,
but he put the phone down
again. Some guy waited
and watched, but the truth
was all knotted up
like a twisted cable
under a dusty end table.
The Long Night Shuffle
The nights are beginning
their luxurious winter stretch
as the northern hemisphere
tilts away from the sun, and
I realize how much we depend
on the haphazard wobble
of our planet in orbit.
Without it would there be
weather as we know it?
And if not, what would we
talk about? Without the seasons
would there be time at all?
Our celestial wiggle
turns our rock into Earth;
our planetary boogie
makes life wonderful.
No Kings
We don’t need a king,
we need a hand.
We don’t need ICE,
we need an ice chest
full of tamales.
We don’t need
another angry dude
on the internet,
we need a national
weather service.
We don’t need global tariffs,
we need a phone call
from our little sister at 3AM
when it seems like the last light
in the world has gone out.
Jack O’ Lantern
Born on a little bit
of October afternoon air
is all the potential
of a Saturday night;
the evening yet to begin
is full of weird, wild potential,
like a pumpkin, smooth
and plain, until
a knife and some fire
enter the picture,
and then who knows
what it might become?
Gendarmes
Citizens such as myself
find themselves at odds
at times with those more inclined
toward the rules.
Put another way, if
a gentleperson should indicate
that they are “of arms,”
they will find me making
quick use of “the legs.”
A Neat Little Bow
I cooked dinner
and cleaned the kitchen
and stowed the leftovers
away in the freezer, and
the evening was tied up
in a neat little bow,
which dramatically contrasted
the unmitigated chaos
that was the rest of my life.
Lug Nuts
“I’m gonna just trust
I did this right,”
my brother said,
this October evening
while we sweated lightly
in the driveway.
He screwed the nuts
on to the new lugs,
while I thought
about our lives.
I’m gonna just trust
we did it right too.
Monday Night
When the bar is quiet,
the music seems louder,
and the tv a little brighter.
The drinks are a little
clinkier, and I get thinkier
to no particular end.
Well La Dee Da
In my younger days,
I was looking for a miss,
and your lovely, loopy
hats enchanted me
and you driving
terrified and delighted me.
Later I would find myself
looking for a Mrs, and
your emotional intelligence
and command of conversation
were aspirational for me.
Now I find myself looking
backwards, and in the many
different people you were
on the screen, I see many
of the ones I loved; once
again they feel next to me.
CHUCKLES & CHAOS
Esta una cantina, señor,
pero no habla Espanol.
Is there something
I can help you with,
and the phone went dead,
and I made another
Moscow Mule, and I said
good night to Rachael
and Liv, and that’s when
the screaming started
as two four-year-olds
disputed the ownership
of one wayward cherry,
as plump and full of
sweetness as Saturday
evening itself, lined up
like an eight-ball
after this afternoon’s end.
The End Was Nearer Than They Thought
A few weeks into cancelled flight season,
that one lost sock started a cult,
and the First Church of Hurricanes
twisted out of El Carib, up
the East Coast, into
the North Atlantic, where
the markets went haywire.
The initial public offering
of The Vatican & Holdings, LLC
was off the charts, or
so they said, no one
could actually find the charts
or tables, or even
any of the spreadsheets
buried and hidden
with their treasurous data.
The National Weather Service,
accused of treachery, collapsed
under the bad press of thousands
of TikTok grandpas grousing
to their millions of fans.
It might’ve been called
ignominious, if anyone could
even remember what it meant,
much less how to spell it. Folks
just called it a cold clammy fear
and left it at that.
Handsome Fella
He just disappeared one day,
he was there and then
he was gone, they said.
A small town was one person smaller.
Maybe he’s off to another place
like a chain letter, maybe
he was seeking a fortune
like a pyramid scheme, maybe
he just had to get away
like a rabid dog
from the family swimming pool.
Now his shack’s a mausoleum,
his job down at the garage
is an elegy, and our census
adds another ghost.
