I seen him again today
sitting on the cold
metal bench with
his worn cane resting
against his aching knee.

He had his blue prison issue
watch cap pulled on tight
covering his
bald head and most
of his eyes.

He had thick white hairs
poking out of his long ago
broken nose.

Fat blue green veins
and liver spots ran
along his swollen
and scarred
calloused hands.

He had a  faded tattoo
between his
thumb and index finger of
a distorted 9 legged spider
with the word VENOM.

His conversation is at best
minimal, he's here to pay his
due. Just as the Doctors and
Nurses aren't here to comfort you.
They're here to keep you alive
even if you don't want to be.

They'll spend thousands of dollars
to keep you breathing,
they want what's owed.

I take a seat across from
him in the cold uncomfortable
holding tank they call a
waiting room.

He gives me a nod,
I return his gesture.

His left hand shakes,
a large hand at one
time a dangerous one.

His bottom lip sticks out,
his right eye droops and
the tattooed teardrops
droop along with it.

I look without staring.
I've heard he killed men
with his bare hands when he was
young, when he was strong.

A sick of it all nurse
approaches the cage and
calls his name.

He slowly uses his cane
to stand as his ancient knee caps
pop then says,
" They want their pound of flesh,
I'm a stubborn *******".

He looks at me and winks
then smiles a toothless
warriors smile.

I smile because I know he
means it .

He limps past.
He pays his debts.












.

I said,
"Give me
something
to write on
maybe
then you'd
understand."

You're taught to
Love your country
but suspect your
neighbor.

You are to worry
about those natural
lines across
your aging face.

But say nothing of
the unnatural lines
left across clear blue
skies by nameless
planes with faceless
pilots.

You are to cheer for
ball chasing men
and cry over victims
of unrealistic crimes.

You depend on the televisions
to bring you the truth.
The same televisions that have
all become just as
flat as the plane you live on.

But that's another secret
you're still not ready to know.

I sat out front
on the large
concrete steps
and allowed my mind
to slip just to
see how it felt.

The occupants of
the Mad house
sat and moved
about around me.
Some held intense
conversations
with the air and
with all that wasn't
there.
Others picked at
scabs or picked
inside of noses.
Their polluted
minds wondered about
everything
except why I was
there.

A guy in furry
slippers and a women's
hat decided I was
there to give out cigarettes.
His face froze with
confusion and horror
when I told him
that I didn't smoke.
Another guy
danced on the sidewalk
in wide dramatic circles
to the music in his
head .
His eyes were
closed and his zipper
was down.

I stared across Beacon st.
along with some of the  Mad
and watched two winos
as they sat on a bench
in their park.
They each drank out of
***** paper bags,
an occasional
mumble exchanged.

The scavenging gulls
stood sentry
as the pigeons
picked at the
ground around
them.

I looked past the winos
through the palm fronds
and the eucalyptus.
A hulk of a container
ship slowly made
it's way along the
harbors main channel.
I thought about the
history of this place.

Where once sat a
library,a place to
seek out and to learn.
Now sits two winos
with their own
kind of knowledge.
And what was once a
YWCA a place for
recreation and youth.
Now serves as housing for
those whose minds have
wondered too far.
Those who dance on
Beacon st.,
alone.
To no ones music
but their own.

Vengeance my cruel
and humorous
friend.

Come sit beside me
and watch all
these fools pretend.

Vengeance my
keeper of debts.
The only real
promise I've ever
made and actually kept.

While walking
with Vengeance
I  came upon Patience
and learned
the importance
of waiting another day.

With Vengeance I
found the strength
to break both arms of
time.
I made time make
more  time
for me.

Vengeance led the
sandal wood
to my shoulder.
Granted me the
sight of the eagle
while taking aim at
my desire.

Vengeance calm my
anger,whisper
promises in my
ear again.

Vengeance my old
faithful friend
I'm so glad
I  haven't felt the need
to call on
you again.