I'm not yankin' your chain, pullin’ the wool over your eyes, or any of that shit.
This is the job man.
Fly a plane, build a bridge, climb a mountain- do it man. Don't limit yourself.
Unless you’re not that adventurous guy, I mean, that's cool. No inner drive to be outgoing: That's cool, that's cool, I get it, stay with us… work at the Laundromat. There are so many benefits to a Laundromat. Good… well decent money. Not much real work, we operate machines, so whatever really. But the chillest part is, we get to see the creepy stains people have on their clothing... and have a good laugh behind their backs.
These stains tell stories.
Pilots are sweaty under their arms. This tells me they are confined, cramped, caged, we are free in our own little Laundromat world.
Bridge builders have industrial stains; no regular old machine will get those out. We are chillin’ working for the same pay they are at a quarter of the effort. Hikers are even worse. They are soaked head-to-toe in sweat for a view from a postcard- idiots.
It may not be as stimulating as flying a plane; as as helpful as building a bridge; as monumental as hiking a mountain; but it’s the superiorly important.
We are doing the world a huge service. Without us, there would be no uniforms for pilots, no clothes for the bridge builder, and no hiking gear for the mountain man.
Buck up, life could be worse, you could be a more useless guy with creepy stains who flies a plane- builds a bridge- or hikes a mountain and then overpays us at the Laundromat to clean his clothes.

you learned
from a young age
that beauty
is measured
in three digit numbers.

baby,
let me teach you
how to unlearn.

let me teach you
how to measure beauty in
scattered
strawberry blonde freckles.
in vibratos and
in beautifully spoken words.
in tears of laughter and
in moments of bravery.

let me teach you
that your two digits
are more than good enough,
and that your light shines
as bright as the moon

baby,
i promise
on everything i have
that i love all 96 pounds of you.

"She is such an excellent student in English,
and I'd ask her teachers why her grades were low
and they'd say she wouldn't turn anything in.  And
it was true, she'd say this isn't ready yet, it's not perfect."
Perfectionism.  That's it.  I don't have it, God knows
but after 500 years of therapy I can look any psychological ailment
in the face...now she's dropped out of college and
he is not happy, my former boss,
"she says it's a 'gap' year" like the British Royal Family takes after
prep school, to be sent to rope cows in the British Empire,
Be an Australian cowboy and post to the trot like a proper Englishman
He's right, it's not a gap year.  
He speaks so quietly, he has judged me so harshly
pathologized me, behaved as if he is perfect and I am nothing
this is quite a large crack in the perfect facade
and I'm still here wondering
so I do what the courageous do and I google perfectionism and
before long I gather details of a childhood spent trying to have accomplishments
so your parents will notice you, a childhood where your feelings aren't important
an emotionally impovershed childhood lacking mirroring, positive mirroring because
the parents were to wrapped up in other things or they didn't really care and suddenly
I understand why this boss of mine would dig into my very soul
because he is so much like my parents
and yet, so afraid, because if I can google this,
then so can he, so why doesn't he when he's the one
with the degree in psychology, so why am I the one
trying to figure out his daughter's problems
and I know the answer
I want to solve mine
Is it the Jew in me?  That kind of willingness to look into that vast
horrid place of self hatred and take a flashlight even and look
at the bloody mess of a psyche and try to attend to the wounds
to heal, the be willing to walk in, squishy entrails cut off
and bloody under my feet, to try to sew them back together
to get the whole system working again.
I want to e-mail her the articles I read about her
I want to heal her, I want him to read this and know
that he is known and he was not such a good father
and she needs help
but no.  it is only me I hope to understand
as I realize I am in the cave, the immensity of my own psyche
trying to understand it, fix it, yet again

You want it both ways
i say not going to happen
you say things that long ago were tru
i said how they should be
you said that you doubted
i won't be trampled anymore
you once asked empty questions
i gave empty answers

once upon a time we both meant those three little words
after a while you doubted
faith is now gone
trust shattered

you claimed you want me hurting
you claimed you want me going insane
you now can't hurt me anymore
no longer will i let you bring me any harm again

you started my darkness
to another i must go to for light
if your angry by my words
remember that you gave up your right
no longer can my heart be affected
pain now is faded
no longer will i reflect the times we shared

you once called me childish and said grow up
well its my life to live
you claimed us equals
truth was we NEVER were

once maybe we were
but not for a few years in the least

but if what you claim is true
then i wonder if you were using me
once that would have been impossible
now not so sure
there wasnt anything we couldnt solve once
guess that aint the case now

i am not sure if we can be anything anymore
guess you no longer want my company
so without further ado
the final piece writ
good bye and good rit

the place is packed
and you're slumped over the oak
the sauce rushing like a wild river
through your veins.

you wave a restless hand to the bartender
who walks over uneasily.
he's scared
worried that one more
might set you off.
he carefully pulls your glass away
and motions to the owner
who comes up from behind
puts a hand on your shoulder
asks if you're all right.
he's big
but his hand is trembling.
he's even more leery.
a dead drunk
in the middle of a crowded place
is bad for business
and an irate drunk is just the same.
there's a fine line to be drawn.
though your words are slurred and incoherent
you somehow manage to convince him
that you're good enough to carry on.

he backs off
and you order another drink
brood over it for a minute
then suck it down
as the room spins in devilish rounds
and the many faces cast upon you
appear fuzzy
bleak
subnormal.

you try to stand up
try to maintain
stumble into a broad
who shrieks in horror as
she shoves you away
and the next thing you know
you're shot out the door
like a rocket
into the night:

truly
a sight to be
seen.





from Slinking Under The Electric Bulb (2012)

there was the application - six pages long,
plus union forms.  
holy fuck, I thought, it's been years.
but it was a decent gig, paid well,
and I was up to my head in debt,
so I hung with it.

the first two pages were easy enough -
name and address, position sought,
emergency contacts.
they didn't question competence
or drug and alcohol use either.
it seemed like a sure thing.

then they asked for references and work history.
aside from freelancing, the closest thing
I ever had to a job was pushing the stuff,
and I had lost my supplier's number
anyway.
of course, one thing I learned from all that
was how to lie through your teeth
and do it well,
which came in handy as I
jotted down several fake companies and used
the names and numbers of friends
to cover for me
in case they checked.

suddenly I was a former consultant,
manager, operator - I had years of experience
and made my way up.
looking around that office and seeing
all those blank faces, I knew I could
pull it off.

the last page was the best: a questionnaire
regarding goals and ethics.

my favorite part about coming to work?

the people.

what does customer service mean to me?

building clientele and seeing that
their needs are met.

what should I do when it's slow?

double check my work.

what word sums me up best?

reliable.

you never saw
such a good bullshitter
in action.

I signed the agreements,
handed it to the receptionist,
wished her a fine day and
walked out.

putting on my shades, I thought about
taking up acting
instead.








from Slinking Under The Electric Bulb (2012)

he makes his rounds down by the 59th Street Bridge:
one leg bends, the other stays straight.
you can't miss him, he's darker than night‒
pasty white lips, coffee cup jingling,
and a fresh clean suit to really catch your eye.

"shit, look at that guy!"
I've heard people say.

he's been at it for years,
rattling that damn cup once the light
turns yellow.
it must be working,
there's always a different suit.
throw in rush hour and bridge cleaning  
and you know it falls like rain.

but one day I saw him walking along 31st Street,
pacing, hustling, both knees bent.
he moved better than I did,
dress shoes and all.
I pulled up and honked:

"feeling good today, huh buddy?"

pasty lips kept it at full stride,
rounding the corner with
no shame in his step.

it wasn't long before I got stuck at that light again.
of course, out came the hobble and the sound of loose change.
I believe the lady in front even handed him a bill.
and when he finally made it over to me,
the only thing I could do was grin.

a guy like that, you just have to
let him go.








from Dizzied By Chance: Poems of a Fringe Existence (2013)

My mobile screams
Its Taylor Swift " I wished it was me"
Wake up folks its 6 am
Let's face another hectic day
Another day of terror and challenge
Unlike the good old days
when life was even simpler
when mobiles were  not a necessity
but communication still exists
in close knit families
Life was even greater
When smartphones and computers
were gadgets of the future
Still relationships went on smooth and happier
Life was even lovelier
when Apples and Blackberries
were merely fruits
for juices and desserts.
but still we need to strive
to face another day
in this concrete jungle
and adapt our life....

I have always felt compassion and empathy for the kids I see at school walking alone, eating alone, for the ones that sit in the back of the room while everyone bullies them. I did not take the time to really think about the extent of their pain. Then, one day I thought, what if I did take a moment out of my time to simply say hello to someone without a friend or stop and chat with someone sitting by herself? And I did. It felt good to brighten up someone else’s day, someone else’s life. How did I know I did? Because I remembered the day a simple kind hello changed my life forever.