The other day
They made me part of the coffee crowd
For once, I didn’t object
Choosing sides was never my thing
Sitting on fences was my usual go to
The single dad by my side
Whose children are all grown
The proctologist who thinks too much
I must have broken the ice when I said
He works from both ends
He watches CNN in the morning
And Fox at night
So he has a balanced point of view, hmm
Guess he’s sitting on fences too
Who knows maybe the joke was on me

The other day
What was it I was thinking
That you could possibly be my friend
When you thought I was so unkind
You would respond so quickly then
You were comfortable in that role
But I didn’t want to be that person
I didn’t want to critique you
I didn’t want to be arrogant
Sanctimonious, pretentious
I didn’t feel comfortable in that role
I wanted to drop all the pretenses
You wouldn’t let me
You wouldn’t let me get that close
It was all arranged so well
Nothing was out of place
Nothing to embrace
Displace,
Deface
Everything so neatly aligned
Everything accounted for
Every dollar, nickel, and dime
But someone left the cake out in the rain
I can’t remember who sang it
Time to hang it
Out to cry

The Other Day
Waiting for a message that never came
The phone a *** that never boils
But is that true
Isn’t silence your answer
It’s true
Messages come through
We just refuse to see them
No problem
They’ll be no hissing sound
Of the *** that never comes around
I’m a shipwreck
That’s run around
A digital dingbat
For a screen that screams
Wakeup
It’s time to wake up
Dingbat

The other day

If you don't love me, then, do I love me?
For I within that love do view me whole.
That take your part and lesser mine will be
Then I, my better self, then had you stole.
Let know what you'd remove would love you still
Then you, my love reside and there may die.
Unless you find that time gave greatness will
Presenting back wherein the void does lie.  
But if my love shall perish, me without,
I'm poised for none a better place to death.
For you my love was made, and there I'm out;
Love's breath in hearted air that love had breath.

Deny my love, accept my love, but know
It dies with you, whichever me you go.

Socrates,
the philosopher
not
the footballer,
although
I guess
they both kicked
things around,
one on the field of play
and one
back in the day
when
philosophy
made
for a great party.

me and 'crazy horse'
civilisation?
tea?
but of course
and a Garibaldi.

Brokers.

Carving the dinner
every one a winner
except
for the chicken.



The blows go over my head
everyone knows
Di Maggio's dead,


so is Kenny
but he always is.

He struts down the sidewalk
With a hint of a frown
His spoon swings beside him
Jaunty hat as his crown.

Childers peep with a gasp
As they watch him strut down
The musk that follows him
The stains on his gown.

There he goes, they whisper,
As the sun settles down
The Badass Chef, they say,
Of this Badass Town.

He pounds dough to a pulp
Whisking eggs beyond shape
Beets up on the salad
Stomping vatfulls of grape.

Skewers meat without thought
Chops neat through a bone
Flays sharks without care
Needs no sous, works alone

The Badass Chef
Of this Badass Town.

He hangs up his cleaver
At the end of the day
Dripping droplets of what
None have courage to say

He blows out his flambe
Spoon back at his side
Turns back to his war zone
Fists clenched with quiet pride

There he goes, they whisper,
As the sun settles down
The Badass Chef
Of this Badass Town.