jelly fine advice

meri always says
"quit licking your fingers"
but she is not the one with honey
dripping all over

let me clear that up
not all over really
just all over my fingers

and for this
i think my hand is lickable
the soonerable, the betterable
or the honey will be floorable

so, jellylovers
my advice is this
like it or not
lick it or else

i have to be careful now
cause that one i wrote yesterday
had a line that sounded like it came from hallmark
and i almost puked

see i wrote them for a job once forty years ago
wanted to be their poet
they wrote back and said they had one already
must have been the guys mother

(and don’t comment to this blog
that jellylovers is two words and not one
cause i like it that way or i’ll to put
you on my list to)

buona pasqua - happy easter

captain z. and iwona are in italy
drove 20 hours from poland
then called tuesday from bari
where filip’s in school

we made hasty plans, tried to call back
his phone out of range, end of that tact
after i emailed both he and his son
nothing happened, were we done?

then to the termini
found the trains full
flights too expensive
bus seats were nil

easter week came early this year
we thought we’d spend time
near the adriatic sea, but it fell through
that idea is not going to float

plans mean more than good intentions
this we again learned, again the hard way
meri checked now and found a lower flight fare
made arrangements to leave in the morning by air

so these daily lines i create will pause
be assured it’s for a very good cause
for friends may come, friends may go
it’s better when you see them though

when you get to heaven

when you get to heaven
you’ll never wait in line
smiles greet you everywhere
all you do is fine

you’ll dress in style, lead the pack
score the winning mark
the family will be filled with amazing joy
always sunday in the park

you can sleep in every morning
of that there is do doubt
mealtime means seconds of everything
and they don’t have sour kraut

(be sure to thank god for that)

coffee or tea

whle i was talking on the phone
meri made me a hot drink in a large cup
i thought it was tea

terrible tea
too strong
lousy taste

after the phone call finished
i got up to put honey in it
she said, “don’t” it was coffee, not tea

ninety percent of the time we drink italian coffee
this was american style coffee
hey, the cup was big and it looked dark
just like strong tea

what a revelation
how powerfully the mind imagines
it was the worst, strongest tea ever
but it was fine coffee

from a thermos
i had it again ten hours later
and it was still good coffee

mind set is stronger than i knew
how can i be old and still be learning?
now i'll learned to pay attention to her
while i'm talking on the phone to someone else

our dear planet

the trash is piling up
it's floating in the sea

clean fresh water is running out
we need clean water to drink

the world population has
doubled in my lifetime

are the classrooms doing the job
do we care about our children

media doesn't speak all of the truths
money is leading globalization

we think what is lost
depends what it costs

rome marathon

nearly 15,000 participants are in roma
to run the cobblestones in marathon 2008
an estimated 50,000 will be in a 4k fun run

the weather is close to perfect
the runners say it’s a great way to see the city
non-stop tv coverage for the three hour event
features spectacular helicopter views

we go out to yell encouragement to the runners
then watch the rest on tv

the day before we saw roma our favorite way
on a bus ride, and while passing piazza del popolo
crowds of kilted scotch fans were walking along
drinking beer in preparation for a big rugby match

as we crossed a bridge over the tevere i mentioned,
"I've been here on my motorino."
there was a pause
my dear one was surprised and perplexed

"What? You've been hearing your motorino?
In your sleep, or can you hear it now?
Like a ringing in your ears?”

that was a frightening thought
since i had gotten rid of my motorino a few years ago
"No, I said, I've been here, on my motorino."

two old ladies

today from the bus in the rain
while pulling into the termini
i saw the two old ladies, older than most
who live on the corner by the train station

i walked over to the disheveled pair to learn of them
though they ask for nothing
pulling out a ten, it was i with the question
who handles the money?

both wore dresses, blankets and many sweaters
one took the bill, one stayed aloof
by showing an interest in their lives
the one who took the money began speaking

she said it was tougher now, life was rougher
twenty years they've been on that exposed corner
with their belongings in two shopping carts
when it's cold and rainy they sleep in the station

not to impose, i didn't ask much
are they too old and crazy to teach us anything?
what they say, what they know
did old greeks say 3000 years ago

brushing teeth, mine

i fell asleep brushing my teeth
thinking how my grandmother used to like
saturday tv with the midgets wrestling

Your mother's mother? she asked
"Yes," I said.
"That figures."

now what was that supposed to mean?
i gave her a sharp look, i did
you should have seen it

anyway i didn't really fall asleep
zoned out into brushing land
more like it

a mild trance state
perfectly normal
it happens, right?

the information future

make a hole, duck and cover
things
are happening so fast
more than anyone can grasp
you can't keep up

try as you might
it's blurring out
beyond sight
at record breaking speed
much more than we need

keep out of the way
they've pulled out the stops
let it roar on, roll on
'til it drops, or is drained
the seams are all strained
it's a runaway

wish the best to the future
wish it the very best
it is humming ignited
and flying nearsighted
exponentially

the hurrier it gets, the faster it grows
the larger it gets, the faster it goes

dim & sons

physicists say eleven dimensions
are going on here at the same time

they certainly must be observant
i wonder what channel they're watching

now, with eleven dimensions all in this space,
i know why you can stand alone and sill feel
crowded in your kitchen

'52 chevy

years ago the termini
(that's the rail station in roma)
had a '52 chevy pickup truck on display in the lobby
it was surprising to see it there
you don't see american vehicles in italy

well the termini and the times have changed
but i was thinking about my '52 chevy pickup today

i'm not sure when i saw the one in rome
or when i had mine
both were a while ago
1990 or so

mine was sweet
some young woman sold it to me
it was her x-boyfriends, he left it at her place
i guess she was upset with him
she sold it for three hundred bucks

it needed about a hundred dollars worth of work
by cousin don, a real pro and old vehicle lover
made my truck tick like an old singer sewing machine

cousin don wasn't my cousin before i met him
i found him through an add in a newspaper
but he remained a dear cousin and kept my truck tuned
until the day he died

how very dear that old truck was
original everything
even had a san francisco giants sticker from the fifties
on the rear window
a white billiard cue ball on the floor gear shift

the interior i had redone in original leather style
it had a visor over the windshield
some old dents, not too many
i did a green and black two-tone paint job
with a brush and matt finish
it looked factory done and aged by time

how sweet, it ran with such a tick, tick, tick
and i rode the old classic
everywhere in and around san francisco
so many time we crossed the golden gate

alas, we moved away and i sold it
where has it gone
like watching my children who have grown
like seeing all turn into the past

we love life
endure it
do the best we can
and the big wheel keeps on turning, tick, tick, tick

once in a while
we look back and recall
still keeping our heads up
as we move on into the future

too many

i don't know what happened to sunday
it started
there was the outdoor market down the street
meri picked up some good vegetables
i slept

we had coos coos and artichokes that meri made
i had negative contribution

after lunch
we went out and it was cool, but nice in the sun
from campo dei fiori full of tourists
we took a 62 bus as far as san silvestro

some how we wandered into the galleria
named for the beloved actor alberto sordi
a great old building converted into a mall
a fifty foot high stained glass ceiling and beautiful rose marble arches and niches in the well-sculptured structure
built about a hundred fifty years ago
they don't do this quality now

we were going to have a coffee and little half sandwich called a tramezzino, but prices were too high
2.50 to sit down with coffee
2.40 for a tramezzino that are usually 1.30
that 2.50 euro is 3.85 in u.s. dollars
coffee used to cost fifty cents
when italy first went to the euro prices immediately doubled
they haven't slowed
weekly news stories bemoan excelerating food prices

out the side door at a pizza place we bought a slice each
meri noted that when we were first in roma eighteen years ago
the pizza was always made on sight
now it is shipped in and re-heated in a microwave
fast food has arrived
romans are noticeably heavier

around the corner was trevi fountain
we wound through the crushing crowd and i took Meri to the photo
exhibition that i saw last week at the Igovernment printing lab

outside was jammed. inside there was no one and four rooms of historic photos in this free exhibit
no advertising. no crowd.
photos of old Roma dated from 1845 to about 1870

we noted the differences from a hundred fifty years ago
then there were empty fields, now in that same area are city streets and apartment buildings
it has changed from few people to full of people

we have seen so much change in our lifetime
i first flew in a Ford Tri-motor prop plane before crowds
and before jets were the common airliner

a couple of years ago i was getting off a packed bus at chiesa nuova, a crazy italian guy who had been talking all along the way, got off at the same stop and said to me
"there's too many of us."
"what are you saying" i asked. i understood his words in italian, but wanted clarification about what he'd said
"people. i am talking about the earth's population. there are too many of us."
i nodded, said something in agreement and went on my way

about two months later Meri and I were in San Diego, California walking down a busy street. in the group coming our way was a crazy guy talking to everyone. just as he passed us he turned back and said directly to me, "there are too many of us."
it shocked me, but i kept walking. it was the same guy.
it took me about a second to remember the other time and when i turned back to him i said
"hey, you just told me that two weeks ago." but he was already gone, invisible in the crowd

two dancers

two dancers
set up in front of Feltrinelli book store
when we were there

they had black and white outfits
one had stripes on her skirt, the other checks
a small sound system and taps on their shoes

their music began - it was anything goes
look at them tap, tap, tap, tap, shuffle, ball-change
the second song was put the blame on mame

this was at the bus stop across from largo argentina
some people paid attention
the girls had a routine and danced away

after a few more numbers
they took their collection basket and
music system and evaporated to across the street

enjoying it, taking what coins they earned
something to do dancers, helping us all
with their tap, tap, tap,tap, shuffle, ball-change

hear me

i’m at the age
where I begin to understand
why a man not primarily an author wrote so many books
there is always more to do

and have burnt my thumb enough
to know why church boys use
long brass stick-things to light deep candles
it pays to be careful

and i know why i’m not
like a seven year old
that pops up in the morning
and starts hopping and running around
kids can do that

i’ve done circles
and pop in the morning
so i get up sounding like someone eating
breakfast cereal out of a box

noise

nearly gone are creaking man-pulled carts

amid narrow stone alleys
the tired depths of old roma
nearly quiet
well after midnight
a woman's clicking heels on pavement stones
tap sharp
rhythmic echoing clicks
small, light hammers on an anvil
like voices from those passing on the street
that scale the walls to windows above
and to the roof tops

then, early
in silent dawn
a small delivery truck
the size of a golf cart
starts its engine

roars, barks and sparks
loud without a muffler
limping from a storage area
under the arch, heading the other way
toward the outdoor market in piazza campo dei fiori

here, thirty yards from the arch
the sound like a chainsaw gone mad rattles our windows
people who live the way he passes
those people
those poor sleep interrupted people
i pity every market day
for roma has no ordinance
against noise

some country mile

on a rolling back road slowdown
not quite lost
we paused our car just off to the side
the air was still and nearly warm
we sat looking, talking a while
"let's get out and walk,"
she said and i nodded

enjoying the quiet woods on foot
once by a pattering stream
where sun glinted on
the tapestry of life
this dramatic natural scene

i thought
to stroll with her is always new
now and then we'd hold hands
it seemed we'd gone quite far
you are my everything,
dear partner, all the things you are

interrupting my reverie
calling me back from afar
tenderly she whimpered into my ear
"honey, where'd you park the car?

to divulge sad facts

meri thinks i have obsessive compulsive behavior
because i take the milk off the stove before it boils

we drink italian coffee and our small apparatus makes the equivalent of two half-cups at a time
at first i used cold milk, but then meri started heating it
but we have to watch it
milk practically explodes when it boils

now i guard against that and attempt to take the milk off the stove early. meri thinks i remove it too quickly.

"i am being prudent," i explain.

"you're like jack lalanne.".

"why jack lalanne?" i asked.

"because he ties his feet to the side of the pool and does
and hour of swimming the breaststroke - everyday," she said.

i see

"it boiled one time and i wanted to prevent it from happening again."

"that's obsessive compulsive behavior!" she declared.

i call it the difference between boys and girls.
tea anyone?

our apartment

one apartment over
one floor up
across our tiny street
is a million dollar apartment
i can practically see in the window

only fifty feet from me and happiness

we have friends in the states who
proudly proclaimed they have a home that was never previously lived in
i bet while they built it the workers used to pee in the corner

our lousy apartment on a former worst street in roma
is over five hundred years old
back then they used to throw crap out the window
(that is a euphemism of course, i don't know what they threw, but they didn't have indoor plumbing, and the romans aren't known for their consideration)

michaelangelo, cellini and bernini could have been here in our building
and if they were, they were probably drunk
this is a former spot for gambling, drinking and a whorehouse
forty years ago even the police wouldn't walk down this street

a hundred paces away is campo dei fiori, the former execution ground
giordorno bruno was burnt at the stake by the church there
because he contradicted the church when he said the earth was not the center of our universe
that bastard

hey, sun goes up, sun goes down
and our crappy, dark, tiny apartment is still here
now on million euro row.

prospero

"hello, hello, where are you from?"
he calls to the tourists to bring them closer
in english, french or german
a smattering of languages

near the center of campo dei fiori
by the statue of bruno
at times in the sun
sometime in shade
a simple long table
covered with a cloth
is set with demo vegetables for cutting into curly shapes and spires

prospero he is called
who sells small plastic novelty, yet practical cutters for vegetables
does it from a chair at his table
not from behind the table
but outside, alongside his audience

the jovial old roman
with a look of alert kindness about him
lived thirty years in the ghetto
always did laborer work
now for seven years he has been here

as i pass near i hear tourists chuckle when he blows bubbles
and puts on his entertaining presentation for them
making them laugh
he laughs with them
and enjoys the work
clean and simple
this is retirement done well

a way

the hard part is the thing
between winter and spring
when i need to check twice
to see which coat to bring

the heavy one has a hood
and the day i removed it i started alternating
my light jacket with the hood-less heavy one
depending on how cold it is

depending on the weather
i change all my stuff from one jacket to the chosen other
bam-slam two-fisted organization is the key!
okay, so i kinda got the organization idea from meri
but then, hey, i figured it out my way!

everything gets a certain pocket
so i know where to reach for it
i get my money, coins in one pocket and folded money
i bring my phone - hopefully charged, a pen
my keys and any notes, my id, just the essentials
my bus ticket, cigarettes and lighter
then bam

out the door
on my way
i forgot my keys
what can i say

what do you mean no keys?
i'm locked out!

i was just going to the corner to get a loaf of bread
takes about a minute
meri will be coming out in three to six hours maybe
and i'm locked all the way, way out

this is worse than a couple of months ago
when i came home and didn't have my keys
and heard a voice yelling my name
it was my friend with a shop down the street

i had stopped and sat on the coach and talked a while
my keys fell out of my pocket and she saw them before i reached my locked door

this time i forgot my phone cause i just was going to the corner
meri was home on the third floor in the back room
the door buzzer for the building is broken
but i got the loaf of bread

there was no rock to throw at the window
i tried that once when i was a kid
and broke a neighbors second-story kitchen window
with a mudball that landed in my neighbor's grandmother's pie

thank god my current neighbor on the first floor looked out
saw me and let me in

this time, no problem
i got in
so when all seems lost
don't give in and don't toss rocks