Friday, April 16, 2010

the world's most expensive carpet

6.2 million dollars, the world’s most expensive carpet
sold, how about that and what do you know,
my carpet is for sale right now
for 6.3 million, the one by the door

put that in the Guinness record book
as the highest price asked for a carpet
call the queen or someone
Paris Hilton or Sharon Stone maybe

i’ll put a sign on the back of my pickup truck
and drive down to the Pied Piper
the local ice cream place and celebrate
i’ll buy – they’ll probably only get small cones

wait – let me think about this,
i won’t need a shot of botox will i?
couldn’t they use an old picture of me
or one of Pierce Brosnan and say it’s me?

maybe i’d better just drink
my morning coffee and think about it,
yeah, i do want to be reasonable,
yeah, that’s me, good old Mr. Reasonable

Thursday, April 15, 2010

so life is but a dream

so life is but a dream,
here’s one to sleep on,
we rocket back in time, she and i

take our journey in a flash,
contract it into a night
to see some high points

spend two days at that place
high above the beach in Zijuatenejo
have a nice dinner under stars

two days in the Piute mountains
our cabin , old friends dropping by
the wood stove, where it all began

two days on the boat in Sausalito
the cat’s there lying in the sun
what a decade that was

two days with my folks in Ohio
two with yours in Arizona
make those family festive occasions,

two in Hawaii on bicycles and camping
two in Italy on trains, busing, walking,
wine, pasta and pizza of course,

add two in Sonoma on the crazy oats ranch,
a couple of days here, a couple there,
a whirlwind happy couple dream

we rode the long ride
rose and fell with the tide
and iknow, sweetheart, we’d do it again

like gamblers with fortune smiling
we had the cards and the stars in our favor
someone’s watching over us

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

packed for business

waiting by the stop, standing there
saw one aged, elbow high on M.
looked shorter, had tall hair,
the bus arrived, all boarded

thirty minutes later i tried to call M.
to let her know i was still on the bus
and that i was thinking of her,
sadly, i found her phone was off

she was up there somewhere
in the front of the same bus as me,
stuck and folded in the pile of humanity,

out the widow i saw at a glance a guy walking
head down thinking hard hands in the pocket of his pants,
nearly walked in front of the bus
where the hell was his wife?!

SRO, never seats enough
designed in Italy for beauty,
never function, you want to ride,
you need a ticket and gumption

and we made the run
had some fun
got stuff done
it’s never easy

doing what we can
as woman and man,
plus a crowd of others,
world sisters and brothers

and to you i can say
whether work or play, until it’s done
let it gleam and shine in every way
cause this is your day in the sun

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

tram this time

riding an underground mortuary
with the undead, where the noise of screeching
is paralyzing, the cost of grease must have
rocketed on the wings of the price of oil

eight stops and one-half migraine later
above ground, near empty ears
vibrate from a train passing
in the other direction

at last we had finally made it
to Hell’s End
to wait for a bus, it was sunny
my jacket now too heavy

thirty minutes later the bus arrived
when all boarded
the driver left
for a 15 minute break

foreigners aboard
heading for the office of immigration
to redo papers and fingerprints in case they changed
all for the pleasure of remaining in Italy

with the bus seemingly packed
at the first stop
we topped off, packed again
just to be sure it was filled to capacity

now my jacket acted like a heat blanket
felt a draft of cool air,
must have been a mistake
or the breath of an evil spirit

at the new office
200 people in a space for fifty
18 windows do business,
three were open

we had twenty minutes
window close at 1130, then reopen after lunch at 330
but we made it in time to hear
we should come back in the fall

seems we were here just a century ago
when we got back in the subway
zipping the way they say takes time
off a test-tube rat’s life

then near the termini
the happy people, 2
sat down for Indian Fast Food,
ate lunch and swallowed defeat

Monday, April 12, 2010

the elevator

across the street
workers were taking down letters
of the store name - Rinascimento
large metal script going one at a time

right into the trash
the name of the store could be read
on the unpainted wall
where for years the letters had hung

only O remained,
i was thinking
how i could use it
before it went down the drain into history forever

on my way into a nearby building,
a guy by the door was playing a violin so badly
he should offer people coins from his cup
for the aggravation he caused all too eagerly

i barely squeezed into the elevator
as the door closed it took off shaking chains,
one of those old rattling jobs
that sounded like Jacob Marley’s ghost

the little barred box we were in
was a packed rocket ascending,
as i noticed over the elevator door
900 kg 12 persons, a warning

i saw it too late for us,
we were locked down in a cage of the type
used to load wild animals
aboard a ship in Borneo in ancient times

there were too many in here,
couldn’t count them all,
that large one counts for two
had to start over three times

carry the four, 900 kilos divided into 12 people
is how much? nine into 12,
two zeros left
I’ll use them later,

reminded me of the letter O
i left behind,
must do the math quickly
or ring the bell and run

it’s about an eight floor building
high enough if it goes down fast,
i suppose there is a basement,
count that as another floor to drop

i broke out in a sweat
as the box quit shaking
and hung there
having arrived at some floor

didn’t matter where,
the door opened everyone bailed,
headed for the stair
before we all got impaled

Sunday, April 11, 2010

your invitation

to walk in the woods
birds over head, rolling clouds in the blue
by roads end, long grass and sticks,
kick around shall we, with family and friends

some sunny afternoon time together,
stretch into evening purple shadows
bring food and drink to share
we’ll make a warm fire

take along your musical instrument
for sweet sounds, we’ll sing along
remember a soft blanket to sit on
goodwill will ring in our voices

when you like, old friend
whenever we can
let’s make it happen,
consider this a personal invitation