Life is short;
I've given myself
ample space, to
ponder about such
a thing

It's short in the way
one's favorite
song is short,--

Why end a sweet,
and delicate tune
so soon?

Nothing's a matter,
it's foolish to think otherwise;

Of course, bills must be paid,
their skeletons stored
in metal cabinets
that clink and rattle far away
in some man's office we never see
but he gets paid, and that's enough

What of those out in the streets,
their characters found in books,
their inner voices guide us
through page after page,
and what do we learn then?

Life, you've alluded
every clever mind, and
Purpose, you've slipped
through every hand
that's tried so desperately
to grasp you

How silly we look under
the stars of a Mid-December
evening; it's cold, and the
lightning bugs are in full
bloom;

and so we chase
them until our hearts
fall back into our chests
like water into wooden buckets

Life is indeed, short;

we retire as do most things
of nature retire, and become
one with the earth;

the marble markings
our loved ones leave after
we're gone, remind us

not to come back;

at least for the time being.

'My heart is weak'
he says to his loved ones;
his back turned, shoulders
heavy and neck
loosened

He hangs his head
in shame, and the
mouth follows
with one long drop

'This heart
is a jar filled
with pennies;
trinkets of days
gone by; no love,
no, not for any of you'

They listen as
carefully as they can;
while managing their
own disappointments
and failures; with
their hands tied
behind their backs,
they can only do so
much

'Son, we have
no gold to bequeath
upon you, no diamonds,
no silver, no fortune
to behold,

--forgive us'

No one stirs;
the earth rumbles,
it's belly starved
of bodies

'So it shall be done'
he says to himself;

and this, they all
quietly agree upon
with great regret

His father left the earth
the same way;
and now there
will be one less mouth to feed

I am
sorry, my love,
lovers;--
lovees. You must
understand. I was
built to touch, caress,
hold tightly, let
go lightly, but
above all;
end your
loneliness.

The developer
thought it best
to halt progress.

I was postponed.

The fiscal year
came and
it went; and still
I was locked
in this cage of theirs
never to see
the light of day,--
your gaze, I am
incomplete.

They filled
me with guilt,
and unbearable shame;
left me here to rot
with the thought of you,
you, and you;

You whom I have yet
to love, and adore;
you always.

Am I curled up
in the corner,
afraid and alone?

This, I do not know;

I may never know.

Come find me,

behind somewhere

is where I am;

your nowhere

is my life, it's been like that

since the beginning.

He lays on the sidewalk;
tired, destitute, and most of all
lazy; deprived of any and
every effort possible.

'Spare some change?'
he says, and his voice
rises, and lingers
in the air like the dust
between his fingers.

He's talking to no one;

Many no ones;

No ones in suits, no ones with headphones
on, no ones with their heads glued to their cellphones;
no ones who are going nowhere,
and who got nothing going on themselves.

Or so he thinks.

A child walks by, her hand
in her mother's and she smiles at the man;

The man smiles back and raises his cup;
the change rattles and stops; the sun hits the copper;
it reflects off her blue eyes and she puts her
arm and hand up like shield.

He frowns and mumbles
something like the B word;
or so the child thinks.

She pulls her hand out
of her mothers and runs to the man,
and he raises the cup once again,
but before he can shake it at her,
she kicks him right in the shin
and runs back to her mother.

He doesn't bother to get up;

Stupid no one, he grumbles.

She turns her head and sticks
her tongue out, then smiles back
at her mother;

suddenly her hand is squeezed in
some kind of death grip;

she sees that
terror has seized
her mother's face.

Her name is Justine and she
just turned thirty a day go;

'You're over the
hill,' her friends say;

'When are you gonna
settle down?' her parents ask

'Single and
damaged'

is what she translates

She walks to the
pharmacy two, or so
blocks down from her apartment;

Buys a pack of cigarettes,
Yellow American Spirits,
and as she begins to walk toward
the door to leave, she realizes
she forgot to buy a lighter

She turns around and notices
the man behind the counter
has been staring at her ***;

He looks up, as though
he were checking the time
of an imaginary clock posted
on the ceiling;

and then he coughs,
or fakes a cough,
and ask how he is able to help her;

'I forgot
to buy a lighter'
she says

'These are the
only ones we have'
he says
pointing to
a collection
of white Bic lighters
displayed on the counter;

'Nothing else?' she asks,
'I'm superstitious
and I'm definitely not
buying a white one'

'Only ones we have'
he says with a slight
southern undertone
of indifference

'Oh what the hell'
she says, grabbing the lighter
and slamming
it on the counter
'You only live once,
right?'

The man behind the counter
shrugs, 'sure' he says
his glasses sinking
into the sockets of his eyes;
and she notices beads of tears
underneath the ***** of skin,
or is it sweat?

He rings up the lighter
and hands it back to her

She takes it, but not without
keeping an eye on him
till she reaches the exit;

Then she gives him the finger,
peels the package of her pack
of cigarettes and lights one up
for the road

She pulls a razor
out the secret
zipped compartment
of her leather purse

Her yellow teeth,
with bits of lipstick
in between, reflect
from it's dull belly

She kisses it then
glides it down from
her kneecap to under
her thigh and pushes
it into her flesh

She flinches, her eyes
squint in ecstasy and
she feels life leaving her
from below

There's a faint smile,
followed by a sigh
of relief; a sweet
resignation of some kind

Someone knocks on the door;
they need to ***,

no, they
need to take a ****;

but she knows
what that really means

She stopped doing coke
ten years ago, after
her husband took the baby;

Now she gets a visit a two
once a month and that's
enough to be considered lucky

She leaves the razor
on the sink for the next
person;

they could use it, she thinks;

someone else has gotta bleed.

He leaves the store
and sits on the curb.

There is a sandwich in
his hand; most likely
past it's due date.

People pass, some say
hi, others avoid him with ease.

He doesn't bother to look up;
his sandwich is almost done.

Too bad there aren't any chips.

He brushes the crumbs off his shirt,
gets up and goes back into the store;

then comes out with another sandwich,
and also a bottle of water.

He chugs the water, throws the bottle
in the nearby trash can, and huffs.

He decided whether or not he
wants to start on the second sandwich;
but before a decision is finally made
he sees the bus coming down the street.

He gets up, puts the sandwich in his pocket
and goes to the bus stop.

He gets on the bus.