Baruch met Yehudit
off the bus
it was her half day
off work

and they were going
to spend some time
alone together
as they used to

before they’d' left school
she still had
her work uniform on
and make up  

and her hair
was tidier
than it had ever been
can we go

to your place?
she asked
yes sure
the house is empty

until 3.20
she nodded
and they walked up
the road towards

the house
traffic rushing by
the sun warm
in the afternoon sky

hell of a day at work
she said
that manager
kept on at me

this is not how
we do it
he says
that is how

we do it
why is he
such a creep?
Baruch said

he thinks because
he's manager
he can get
girls to do things

but I always
put him straight
and he doesn't like it
that I don't let him

Yehudit said
report the  prat
Baruch said
a rook flew noiseilly

over head
she looked up
and down again
who would believe me?

I'm just a 15 year old kid
he’s a respected manager
been there
for 20 odd years

who are they
going to believe?
Baruch frowned
won't any

of the other girls
stick by you?
will they heck
most have slept

with him
they're not going
to show themselves up
as ****** are they?

she said
guess not
he said
they reached the house

and went in
the gate
and along the path
to the back door

and opened up
coffee or tea?
he asked
no

she said
let's not waste time
we only have
about 2 hours

so they went up
the stairs to his bedroom
and undressed
and got into bed

you ok with this?
he said
of course I am
she said

it's not you
I have a problem with
and besides
this is an expression

of my love
he kissed her
and she kissed
his neck

and he took in
her *******
the softness
the smoothness

as he ran his fingers
over them
and his pecker moved
and the room enclosed

and protected them
from the world outside
as they made love
the songs of birds

distant traffic
a ticking clock
her uniform
flung over

a chair
then they lay there
breathless
each moving

in a different world
breathing in
the same air
and on the bed post

hanging
her bright pink
flowered
underwear.

Glistening coffee eyes deeply
peering through mounds of rich, bearded head
disarmingly kind, evoking trust
the look of a sorrowful past, he
graciously smiled and unhurriedly spoke
taken aback, taking me seriously
“No one has ever asked for that song
it has never been recorded
I am surprised you even know it.”
For a few seconds we looked, but said nothing
for this moment felt somehow large
maybe they could play it the next time in town
a song of his brother’s fight to stay alive
we could not have known that in  
the months to follow,
“cures” would shear the head
of this Lamb too
and I would send his own words
back to him for courage:
“Pay no mind to the vultures
and the vultures will fly off again”
I wonder, if, upon hearing the news
he recalled this exchange at a bar in MN
and it gave him chills like it did to me

red nails, never fails
to pluck hair from brow and brush aside
the daily do's and don't's, the stray hairs and fears smudging her rosy glasses.
tall boots, grown-up girl suits parade her down the aisle
of the supermarket, purse balancing canned mangoes and fat-free soup.
she's an now girl, a strong-jawed orphan saving apartment buying
woman.

Poets are not born,
poets are written on the hearts of those around them
and in their hot blood, the only thing they can hear
it's that time of night again,
it's not the ocean in your ears and
the christmas lights are one third burnt out and
we're all kind of lonely and not sure why;
so in an hour without any particular light gradient
or weather circumstance,
poets are written
and poems are born.

i wonder if i could slip through one of the cuts on my arm
through that long, narrow red slit
inbetween its folds
and be somewhere else
where pain flows fast and sure
but away