6 am
and my head feels like it was used
as a snare drum

or maybe

it throbs
because of that avocado
green refrigerator

that thing
I was chasing in my dream
dropped on me

from up high
on a towering cliff
as it blew a raspberry

and sped off

Some people are luckier than others
I guess

Headline:

A man struck dead
by falling anvil
from Acme

and now he doesn't have to pay
his ******

All that jumping
and grouping

to end up with three
only to be reminded

that it takes just a minute
for your simple plan

to go to mush
and that this is another day

you wish you were
born a duck

A plastic whistle
or wax paper and a comb

where every note played
conjures up a compact

red blue and yellow car
with a thousand clowns

coming through every door
and out of every corner and crevice

A rubber mallet to the knee
to watch it jump

reflexes

I'm only testing the reflexes
he says

but maybe maybe
he likes to bonk humanity

just to watch it dance

The writing's always
on the wall

usually
something scrawled

about a good time
and who to call for it

or maybe
a more ominous message

about how in ten years
the world will have exhausted

its supply of ding dongs
so you better

stock up now

It was fun watching
my toy ship and squeezy duck

succumb
to the soap-bubble undertow

made
by raging bathwater


from the faucet
into the tub

days gone by

or shall we say
submerged

Launched with flippers
like a pinball

what was I thinking
driving from east to west

was I searching
for some pie in the sky

if so
I hope it was

lemon meringue

happy little trees
blue sky
lollipop sun

misshapen things
like bicycles
keys

yellow maybe
but mostly other shades
of off-color

a painter's pallet
burglary tools and counterfeit
printing press

the great sham
magnificent theft
and master forgery

So many women
have tried to change you

she said with her head
on my shoulder

as rain pellets battered
the windshield

and red-orange strips
of celluloid

flashed in my mind
jumpy jittery

but beautiful
nonetheless

He thought your face had a nice
color

that mad professor with a tomato-red
complexion all his own

and that was years ago
when he said that

as we sat over a plate of steak and eggs
they called a moo and peep

back then I thought we'd still be treking
this thing together

but I know now through words so rudely spoken
by destiny and life

that a tandem journey for you and me
was never meant to be

on this leg

I just finished a tin of spam
and now I'm closing my eyes

to dream about jackrabbits
cactus rattlesnakes  tumbleweeds

and other things
you can sing about

while strumming
an old guitar

It's easier to tap your fingers
to the patter of rain on the roof

the intermittent claps of thunder
and flashes of lightning

I know sunshine
hurts your eyes

I get it

There was no beginning
to our journey

and hence
there'll be no end

and like a divining rod
I was led to this card

and sentiment

as I always am

The  bouncing red ball
of my dreams

I now see
in my everyday

it's something to follow
and focus on

because
at my age I've learned

variety
was never the spice of life

It's about that time
when the mind  wanders

starts to play
and walks the tight wire

between
liquid and solid

dream
and reality

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