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Well, in one of the various underground labyrinths before you get on the L train back uptown.
A man, young man, sitting at a harshly assembled desk
behind an old typewriter
behind a sign: (F-R-E-E Poetry)

feverishly typing
stopping to pause every few seconds
behind a line of six people
Including me
Waiting for our
Free poems, please.

wore a scarf and hat
because it is cold
In Brooklyn in January

Six clicks, space, pause, eleven clicks
Enter,

Behind furrowed features
Something metaphysical
A ghost.  

Everyone in line leaning forward—
Make something
Holy for us
Angel.

(didn't look up once.)
my mother throws
the wet headed mop at him,
expecting him, nimble and atheletic
to jump over it
but it hits his calf
and ankle with
a sickening crack
and he falls
like tree felled in a storm
as he hits the too long green grass
there is a wet thud, thud.

then a momentary silence
striking in it's completeness
so profound, it is almost zen like

broken by the high pitched wail
as the pain receptors in my brothers brain
kick in to high gear,he writhes on the ground
my mother hovering over him
repeating this mantra
"you were supposed to jump!
you, were supposed to jump"

he was foueteen, the local sport star
arrogant as only teenagers can be.

she would have been middle to late forties
a single parent having worked a double shift

I cannot remember his infraction,
there were;  oh, so many
but still 38 years on
I can feel the silence
so absolute....
and hear the mantra....

you were supposed to jump
                                    you were supposed to jump
My mother to my recollection only ever twice lost the plot in anger....this was one of those times....as I say I have no recall of what my brother did...
My mother worked hard and was a good mother...and father to us...
I write this today...because  I found myself un a similar situation...
not that I was violent toward my child
but that I was so blindingly angry that  I could have been.
As to why that is another story entirely.  Suffice to say youthful exuberance, and no fear, can be a mix that makes Momma mad.....

My brother was bruised by the mop handle, every body carried the shock of that moment with them for a good many years....My mother apologised profusely to us all for her loss of control....and I think that was when we as children had that epiphany children have...that parents are humans too with strengths a d weaknesses.
As a child I was in awe of the monentous nature of that moment, as an adult I do not condone the violence within it, but after today...I may have a better understanding of it
I am afraid
Not because, they are bad
But because, I am not.
I am afraid
Not because, I can't face them
But because, they don't want the same.
I am afraid
Not because, I told the truth
But because, this is not the fruit.
I amafraid
Not because, I am Me
But because, they are not.
I am afraid
Not because, they hate me
But because, they can't see.
I am afraid
Not because,I am told To be bad
But because, I am still not mad
I am afraid
Not because, things didn't turn out my way
But because, nobody can predict the last say.
AND SO SAYS ALL OF ME

There's more naked
yous...than...you

can shake a stick at
( so the mirror reflects ).

Here's you all at once
from the front, side and back

all at once and
simultaneously

your laughter shaking
your shoulders as you sing

Yello's
"Oh yeah...ooooo....YEAH!"

"Wow! I I wasn't me..."
you gasp

"I'd really fancy me!"
you nod in agreement

with your **** ****
mirror selves.

"You're a very very
lucky lucky fellow!"

you inform me
for my information.

And I agree
with all of you.

The mirror laughs.
And so do you.
WHAT ARE YOU LIKE?

You are like...
a Victorian architectural folly

glimpsed from
a passing train

fieldsandtreesandcows
dashing by with a clickity clack.

And one thinks to one's self
did I really..

...see that
or what
or not
or how
or why?

And then one is swallowed
down a tunnel's gullet

and only one's own
face stares back amazed!

And I can almost hear you laugh:
"Yes...that's me...me...exactly!"
 Feb 2017 Joe Cottonwood
Gidgette
I wish I was his cigarette,
Have him breathe me in so deeply
Wrap his lovely lips around me
Set fire to me, And
Burn
Slowly for him
To be the thing he holds
In his artful hand
Oh, what a lucky thing
That cigarette
I sneaked a cigarette this evening. It was heavenly. Happy Valentine's Day to me;)
 Feb 2017 Joe Cottonwood
Gidgette
When we were young,
Before broken by age
We danced our grand pas de deux,
Upon life's stage
Our plie's were graceful
Many grand pas, we danced
And I, never knowing,
A solo I chanced
I thought I'd always,
Be your danseus
I'd hoped for no other ballerina,
You'd have a use
You did glissade
Into my heart
But I see I've danced solo,
From the start
Pas de waltz en tournant, alone
My dance now
Since your grand jete, from my side
This ballerina, will take her bow
And for the final time,
The curtain closes
But for this ballerina,
There are
No roses
he sat bedside with his great grandmother
stroking a hand laced with what he saw as
tiny blue rivers, flowing from a thin wrist
dammed by ancient knuckles

boulders chiseled by eighty-four years

he read from his book while Mommy
dozed in the chair, and nurses squeaked
in and out, all with half smiles he could
not decipher, for Grammy was sick

and when his mother was awake, she cried

he hadn't seen her tears before;
he tried not to look, preferring his book
with its pictures of the sun, orbiting
planets and mazy moons

and spaces in between where heaven might hide

he understood most of its words,
and none were of heavens--unless noxious gasses
and swirling clouds of dust were the winds which
whipped through the pearly gates

but his seven wise years knew that was not so

when he turned to the page of the
penultimate planet from the sun,YOU-ruh-nuss
he discovered it took four score and four years
to orbit our star once

math's mystery may have eluded him

though coincidence was not yet
in his lexicon, and now he knew Grammy
had her times around the sun, her eighty four
equaling one for the great tilting Uranus
Uranus, the next to the last planet from our sun, takes 84 years to make its orbit
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