and paperclips
taped together

a sculpture
on my desk

art and an homage
to desperation

despair
and disappointment

every time
I look up my retirement account

The ambient atmosphere
of machinery

electronics
and light flashing

like a Kodak camera
amazing

what we embrace
and how we find peace

when our nose
is to the grindstone

and we are
under the gun

"It's supposed to be sunny today..."

he says to no one
then shrugs

and walks off
to make copies

like soap bubbles
from a wand

so many broken pieces
of conversation

float off into space
before

they pop

I'm out of the loop
an outsider

so they they say

and that's perfectly ok

last night
I dreamed of Dilbert

not in his cubicle
but onstage in a jazz club

playing
sultry saxophone

with enchanted blue smoke
rising up

around him

These silver-colored nuggets
in a glass bowl

plopped
on the counter

metallic gleaming
under the fluorescent light

Is it a bug and something
you can't put down

just lust
or is it really love

and longing

sunny day blue sky
and golden wheat for miles

Perfect
in my head

but when
it exits and hits the air

then it becomes foreign
to your ear

a language so
ancient

that makes life a struggle
to be relatable

suitable
for your palate

and  mass consumption

Gleaming
pink and magnetic

we are drawn

to its  cold metallic
stature

it's the day

our Day the Earth
stood still

Road closed ahead
so the digital sign says

as lightning illuminates
the orange reflective pylons

placed to force traffic
off the highway

it's weird

this lightning flashing
with snowflakes

whipping all around

I get lost in silly daydreams
about conquest

and most of all
becoming

a cruise ship comedian

there are things I'll never
understand

like how to get what you want in life

and all the intricate parts
of men

Solid metal
painted bold bold colors

and details

like wheels
with whitewall tires

making it ready

to go to yesterday
and better points beyond

Jump
like over a red plastic

or bakelite piece
and maybe

a mad dash
around a track

either way

I'm over it or
went from zero to sixty

rubbing and racing
and there she is

easy on the eyes
billowing

in a breeze that's gentle
and easy on my skin

victory

Green red white
and blue big bulbed

Christmas lights
on a fake tree

it stopped being real
ages ago

A concrete
melted

and a shattered coke bottle
with glass scattered

across the floor

Red hat
pulled over the  eyes

homespun clothes
and a white wavy beard

and every day as I walk by
I ask you

what's the good word

thinking someday
you will speak

and tell me how to find
the door

You and I
with so much history
no

hyperbole

that hangs on us
like bad-fitting clothes
and it's all so

complicated

Gauze
or some tape

to cover a scrape
or scratch

that we tell ourselves
is only a temporary solution

but then
ends up another

permanent accessory
to our makeshift lives

Water drips on them
like Chinese Water Torture

as a film of food slime
coats the ceramic

and you have to ask yourself
one question

was it worth it

Tonight
the sky is strewn with stars

like diamonds
that have long stopped twinkling

and now

cut

They're tacked along
an outcropping of wall

and one droops because
of a missing tack

and after all these years
we've never fixed it

I guess politics
is war

and war begats wounds
which turn to scars

and then

badges

I hobble along
thinking

broken toe
blistered pad

these leaves back to back
they fall

flopping

on top of each
other

Beige walls
with painted blue anchors

yellowed light

a gray rug
worn

but still good

do you
or don't you


everybody does
has a story to tell

that is

Last month it was
sultry

but today the air
bites

no notice
no transition
and definitely


no warning


just like people
who rarely say goodbye

or herald their changes
and maybe  I shouldn't

and maybe it's not
necessary

but
I'll tell you anyway


I've growing terse
in my old age

through a streaked window pane
I watched life

get washed like flotsam and jetsam
into a storm sewer

and realized  again
that

it's all about days like these
and  the quotidian truths

they reveal

It rained last night

and the flood waters
washed away

a pair of kids
red rubber boots

a four square ball
and a lecture

no one needs to hear

But not yet still
green

the leaves are that
of Summer

we wish and we must
be careful

what we wish for
and look beyond

what is strikingly
beautiful

and at the time
never

here to stay

Cracks
deep cracks

more like fissures
in the asphalt

and if you are like me
who

never got past this
first barrier

then you missed the treasure
at the end of this dusty rainbow

We are always out of time
as we drive by

running from our own trolls
and demons

to stop and see
what animatronic terrors

await us

before our very eyes
or face

like we are falling
or colliding

destiny
maybe

but definitely
a silver bucket

and a brand-new pair
of cleats

What we're driving away from
is the same thing

we are driving toward

a gray cloud beast
behind

one in the front
and a signpost

up ahead

Some say I threw
my money away

on trips
and other frivolous things

and now they tell me
it's all in the wind

but if it's the wind
that's in my face

when I'm on the open road
what better place is there

for my money to be

Eggs over easy
farm fresh

so they say

scrapple
or corn beef hash

sizzling in grease
on a cast iron skillet

life

on the Mother Road

ripped
from yesteryear

it's Main Street Soda ****
with the Munger Moss Motel

an Art Deco
delight

still keeping
the route and dream

very much
alive

Whale
baby blue

concrete

and like a magnet
I'm drawn to it

as though it might
swallow

me  right up

Foamy Cola
and ice cream treats

complete
with a maraschino cherry

topped like an angel
on a Christmas Tree

and wedges of lemon meringue pie
under a glass dome

as red and silver stools
line a Formica counter

Crashing waves
a merry-go-round

fishing poles

sandy beaches
palm trees

it's the end of the road
but more

of a line
we didn't know

we could cross

Everybody
was somebody

at some time

old postcards
a grape  Nehi soda

and a pair of moccasins
adorned

with colored glass beads

As the tide goes out
uncovering

the sand bar path
to the light house

and children laugh
hurling

beach *****
and seaweed


as sandcastle after sand castle
gets trampled

it's one deafening
question

that I'll always
refuse to answer

would we have lost each other
in the hustle and shuffle

of family

Three gas pumps long
it's clean

perhaps
well lighted

but with summer bugs
swarming the lamps

like a plague

and it's in between
here

and there
whatever

and wherever
there

maybe

In the spotted mirror
popping quarters

to make the bed
rumble

as the shower sputters
steam rises

and freshly chopped ice
fills a vinyl bucket

you are everywhere
that was so long ago

Don't run away
run into the  lightning

the thunder
and the storm and

wash thoroughly
in the torrential drops

because as they say
a little sudden rain

never
hurt anyone

We all do
search that is

for the sand
that slipped

through
the hour glass

so I don't fault you
for walking the halls

room to room
don't worry

we'll see him again
and each other

With every turn
and twist

of the silver knobs
and tightening

of the nylon strings
the dream

becomes less milky
and gauzy

so the real picture
can begin to focus

slightly crooked
it hangs

but a painting
none the less

of a not-so-perfect
vessel

that carried us
down rivers

and out to sea
as we journeyed

far and wide

the street you describe
I've never been there

but I have kicked a bedsheet
a time or two

and maybe I've reached
for cigarettes

I've been hot and cold
more cold blooded

you might say
in the true snake sense

Peace

today
is what I've

made with age
and life

I love you

is what I wrote
this morning

on last night's
cocktail napkin

Thunderclaps
lightning flashes

and the rain
pit pats on the roof

my fingers
snap crackle pop

and I'm distracted now
but I'll get back on track

as soon as I see
a rainbow

a dead mouse floats
where water has puddled

in the driveway

and a  whiff of skunk
means

it must have taken port
from last night's storm

in the garage

a slow rusty drip
falls from the gutter

so many early morning
impressions

so many clues
and so many McGuffins

to distract

muscles twitch
moonlight radiates
though still soft

a voice

angelic
or otherwise

sings

a sharp blade
carving

shaving
after shaving

from a gnarled wooden
stick

or is it the sound
of your gravelly singing

and the many guitars
you've  owned and played

or the feel of stubble
or the smell of cologne

I don't know

but I'll can and will say
at the risk of selfishness

is your day is
mine too

and a day
will never be enough