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the magnified, mascara applied
                                                    eyes of my skull
burn holes in my thighs
                                       mulling over the size of this hull

i chunder my lunch and wonder of
                                                          everyone else
and if they're also laser beaming love
                                                               i­nto themselves

or if they're boundlessly born with it
                                                              unstained smiles, strained bites
maybe they're just born with it  
                                                   no pained bile or insatiable appetites  

either way, i hardly
                              can infer
if my stomach is
                          half empty
                                          or half full
left my phone unlocked
on the taxi’s back seat,
won't be the last time

called it a few times
finally, the driver picked up

he had a fare immediately after mine,
and was now headed way downtown,
and would call later
when fate returned him nearer my office

and so it came to pass,
very shortly thereafter,

we met on the street,
he rolled down  the window
and with the greatest smile of pleasure,
as if he had won the lottery
beaming,
handed me my phone

I had two $20's to cover any expense he might have incurred,
neatly folded in my hand  
and offered it right up, right away;
but the driver repeatedly pushed my hand away
as I insisted,
saying:

"No sir, no no, not necessary!

Allah sent me a fare
that took me soon back close to you, so,
  no loss of time did I suffer,
so your offer is kindly unnecessary!"


to which I replied,

"exactly!
Allah sent you to me
so I could reward you!"


and with an equally, beaming smile I continued,

"our ride and meeting today,
together was pre-ordained it was


Inshallah!" ^

something he could not dispute...
or my knowledge thereof and it’s
proper pronouncement,
nor
his amazement,
to disguise!

  we parted ways
   each believing,
   each receiving,
a heavenly check plus,
each, credited with a mitzvah^^
on our
respective trip logs,
our humanly divine balance sheets,
kept by the
single
supreme taxi dispatcher
Arabic for ^"God/Allah willing" or "if God/Allah wills," frequently spoken by a Muslim


^^a meritorious or charitable act in the Jewish tradition

FYI,
NYC taxi cab drivers are suffering economically by the explosion of ride hailing app cars, many unable to pay their bills, earn a living, have committed suicide over the past few months
https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/sixth-new-york-city-cab-driver-dies-suicide-after-struggling-n883886

true story, poetry is there for the taking
She has dark complexion,
and cat eyes
Red lips, red dot
And wearing red
makes her
an attractive poem
I recite her
every bedtime
The drums of doom are echoing
Across the barren hillsides.
  Heavy carts on wheels of hatred
   Loaded high with steaming tubs of vitriol
    And the ugly trolls who brewed it,
     Are rolling down the twisted roads,
      Toward a city newly named Perdition,
       There to dance the Sarabande
        While flocks of screaming Peregrines
         Circle through the storm black clouds
          And all the shutters are nailed tight
           Against the wind that that rattles doors
            And augurs the millennium.
ljm
One of the longest sentences I've latelywritten
I think the patron saints have all been left for dead.
The lies have all been said,
and payments been arranged.

The depositions all went down behind the scenes.
The clergy spilled the beans,
but somehow the guilty never found

Have you heard of Jesus?
He was very wise,
now he lives up in the sky.

sing along, sing in spite of all the pain
sing in spite of all of the pain

Children start out in the world so full of dreams.
Then come the philistines,
who run those dreams into the ground.

Yes, it’s been confirmed, the patron saints are dead.
The church is in the red,
and we are all concerned.

I can imagine Jesus,
with a mighty spell,
sending all those guys to hell.

sing along, sing in spite of all the pain,
sing in spite of all of the pain.

The sordid stories that were hidden from us all,
except those on bathroom stalls,
which turned out to be the facts.

Children start out in the world so full of trust,
their faith was easily crushed,
and now we’re filled with a righteous rage.

Now we’re living in a new enlightened age -
sure that we can be the change.
Can we live like Jesus?
Can we avoid lies - can we be compassionate and wise?

sing along, sing in spite of all the pain
sing in spite of all of the pain
I am not a poet
I weave words with cosmic threads
Looping samples from the energy

If no one ever hears it
It will still always exist

So I play with knobs

I push  
          
------------->I Scratch

Dance


Love


Spin
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