the flyswatter hovers  
      hesitating -  
should I play God today?

Skies darken, bellow
Thunder or gunshots?
I can never tell these days

Mom neatly packing
Leftover rice - down the road
Orphaned ducklings await dinner

damp summer night
used ******
in the parking lot

sobbing clouds
storm off
in a fit of pique

Summer grass
Rushing towards the sky
Disregard for itchy ankles

strip mall church
selling rosaries
and hope

i wish i could ask
you what you think of me now
that you are gone, Mom

sidewalk ants
faire la bise
- celebrate spilt soda

beach seagulls
chasing one other
the sunset follows

From daydream to daydream
My thoughts skip on the surface
of consciousness

footprints in the sand
       confirmation I exist
washed away

the sun drops
through the hourglass
drip... drip... drip...

chalk faded
         from the sidewalks
the kids are grown now

They shut down
the world
around me
but I’m still sublime
because I exist entirely
inside of my mind

In my wallet, rummaging
will this one decline?
- panicked, next in line

I'm the shell
rocking in place
suspended in the surf
as the waves come and go
-- and trust me, they always go --
weathered by the sea's
rhythmic betrayal
with the wave's triumphant
and lustful crash
followed by its
sorrowful retreat  
-- a song as old
as the tides themselves
-- heartbreak

What should I write about today?
Love, death, or foreplay?
It’s all the same

5pm
hostile rain
strikes my cheeks

crimps  my pressed
white collar
in icy fists

shakes my shoulders
like a soggy ***
of singles at Venus

with the violence
of all-consuming
yesterdays
  
drips down my ear
with the seduction
and precision
of a diamond blade

licks,
moans,
thunderously shouts
  
     "WAKE UP"

never thought I’d go out this way
bursting colors turn to gray
belly up in a pet smart display

Fraught
Writhing
Speaking in tongues
Words I’ve never known
        “I love you”

Hung by their ankles
Coins drip on the floor - pennies
Red as the blood drained

My mind is blank
yet reeling
like a skipping record
I choke
and turn in place

Disjointed thoughts writhe
Like the cut worms from my sixth
Grade science project

Cow grazing
Matter-of-factly
- unapologetic existence

It’s the static
In the airwaves
A frequency suspended
In purgatory

Between smooth jazz
And traffic reports

It tingles on the tips of my fingers
As they grip the steering wheel

I turn the dial
And land on that chaotic hymn

both relentless yet irresolute
like the cars in rush hour’s panicked standstill

I revel in the cacophony
For I am the static
In the airwaves
A frequency suspended
In purgatory

lonely morning tea
          sorrow in the sachet's  sigh
as the clock turns three

The turtle wades
In water blistered by the storm
- Bathes politely, still

Addled Joints mumbling incoherently
Creaking obscenities as they stir
Stiff fists shake at the relentless sunrise
      -   ****
Another day

****** death
- The fly swatted
by the cow’s
dung-tipped tail

Jimmy Buffet crackles, harmonizing
With undertones of desperation
- “Please continue to hold”