olding

now I know why
old guys wear suspenders

cause there comes a time in life
when a man has no ass,

and that’s about the time
you finally realize
that you see more old drunks
than you do
old doctors.

between time

afternoon turning evening

twilight quiet January damp

meet  Mauro in the covered pass

beyond the Buddhist church

under twin aged stone arches

to him my email with  parting wishes

as he heads to the south pacific

on a  quest to find his way

then campo dei fiori nearly empty

this cobblestone field of flowers

when a  friend of twenty years stops. 

we exchange new year greetings

good words,  good minutes between us

always satisfying is our exchange

never knew each other’s names

but know a friend when we see one

then i see nico, he barely sees me

his  hearing also is wavering

one hundred years and counting, on this

street he was born and lives alone

somehow an empty city

bringing friends together briefly

passing in the light fading cool

of yet another winter late afternoon

roosevelt and her student

roosevelt and her student
were going dancing
to work out a new two step.
however, the cab caught fire;

so they changed plans and their shoes.
on a park bench laughing, telling stories
amid wavering shadows of a large oak
the ufo they waited to see watched them.

what'd you do tuesday?

what’d you do tuesday?

the other day, or a few ago,

days in the week, weeks in a month,

12 months,  all those days in the year,

stack them up and keep track  . . .

wait, that’s too many.

let’s take what we can handle.

simplify said Thoreau; a good idea.

we need three days:   

yesterday, today and tomorrow

more passed is for your history book

ahead is practically science fiction

god can you hear me?

god can you hear me?

if i am thinking?

in italian or English?

or if i mispronounce badly in Francaise?

do you know my question

before i ask?

would you tell me?

but isn’t truth relative anyway?

i don’t think you need praise

or  the company.

if it’s company you want

you can always make someone.

do you know i am talking to you,

and what i will say,

and how everything will turn out anyway?

if so then, what’s the point?

just woke and wrote

just woke and wrote, i did

something cause i haven’t been

able to write and forgot about you

then i did that and opened

google which is slow on my computer

and there your were - M. The Email.

oh, darling, can you refrigerate

bananas or is that bad?

wow you said you slept two

hours felt terrible when you woke

now feel good, except it’s  like the flu?  

sounds extreme.   i’d sleep on it.

geeze the thumb is sounding terrible,  

out of hand, so to speak.  i was hoping

you’d  adopt it,  that is: get along,

or can  a  doctor cut it off . . . the bump thing?

look, i have to rush.  a Plumber and electrician

will be in the building this morning and

i have to shower and pee before

they cut the water or the ele

Dumpling Realizer

without a glitch she passed
through the force field poles
that undoubtedly scan shoppers for weapons
or maybe just make pictures for the boys in the back room

as into market fighting for position, she goes
we’re having soup she said, i saw zucchini laid in a line,
a clerk with a braid came to her aid, once or twice,
she bought magic stuff to make dumplings

amid a symphony of vegetables, meat and a lot of cheeses
she had taken her wheeled cart along
the one that is Scotch red and blue plaid, jesus,
i have no idea why they decided to spell plaid that way

we paid for all, including her Dumpling Realizer
what most earthlings call baking powder,
i thought i’d mention that,
as it is the name of this poem

braid, maid, raid, laid,
paid, aid, and plaid
there i said it and i’m glad.

i'd spell plaid a different way.