Manhattan looks magnificent in the moonlight,
especially from my penthouse on this eve.
I sense the young girl’s apprehension;
She’s only just arrived in the City of Dreams.

She wonders about the price of her admission.
What will I demand? What will she do?
Just nineteen; she’s the same age as my daughter.
Her vocals are an Angel’s; her complexion too.

I make a joke and am rewarded with her laughter.
She gratefully accepts a chardonnay.
The days of Harvey Weinstein are now over.
Young women no longer need to pay to play.

I look forward to her appearance on the screen.
I’m grateful for the part I had to play.
If I feel just a little bit in Love
I remind myself I’m old and look away.

There is a spot
atop a hill
beneath an old shade tree.
It is the place my parents rest
and thus is dear to me.

It is a pleasant spot they chose,
now blanketed in snow.
I place my wreath and give a thought
to a Christmas long ago.

That Christmas Eve my father brought
a tree that filled the room.
My brother worked to fix the lights.
The girls sang Christmas tunes.

Atop the tree an ornament
A star that shone like gold.
Reminder of the miracle
of Christmas long ago.

The house is gone
and they have gone
The youngest has grown old.
Still I recall my sisters song
and that star that shone like gold.

Were the great and the small impressed in the least,
when Mark Chapman from the shadows emerged?
In the dark shots rang out and John Lennon was shot,
The gun always has the last word.
Do you remember where you were when you heard
the news that John Lennon had died?
In the back of a cruiser his light was extinguished.
The poor, deluded Chapman faced prison.
Such fame he obtained-  The wrong kind.

What images swirl through the dying mind
of a man who’s been peppered with shot?
Does life pass in review, as some have claimed true?
Is he judged and found wanting? Then what?

Or does he embrace and take leave of this place
as life’s’ blood empties out of his veins?
Is the thought of her face the one instance of Grace
When only a moment remains?

The water laps against the hull
Just like that time before
Just like that Sunday morning
That exploded into war.
In these old eyes
That yet can see
Those waves of rising Suns,
A tear wells up
In memory
for those forever young.
Below my feet
My brothers’ lie;
Proud Arizona’s crew.
For a time I have
Escaped their fate
But now my days are few.
and when I die,
I’ll make my grave
In Pearl, beneath the Sea.
Then all we suffered
Will be lost
to living memory.

The world is full of good ideas
And rules we really need.
Signs ensure that drivers won’t
Exceed the posted speed.
Plus we have laws restricting drugs-
So nobody smokes ****.
Chicago’s ban on handguns
Has produced a bumper crop-
Of people full of bullet holes
Legislation failed to stop.

It’s clear to me obesity
kills more than bullets do.
Look at your friends and neighbors
And you’ll realize this is true.
Its burdensome to carry them
To their final resting place
After they’ve spend decades
stuffing Stuffing in their face.
It’s past time we got serious
It’s time to walk the walk.
I’m introducing legislation
That aims to ban the fork.

I lost my Left leg at Bull Run and came home from the war.
With a peg I managed farm work; unfit for battle; not for chores.
My neighbor, Reid, did also bleed in that War Between the States.
His right leg was mangled below the knee- they had to amputate.
Now, each year, we go into town and buy one pair of shoes.
My neighbor, Reid, wears the same size and likes the boots I choose.
We’ve become fast friends, the two of us; our children something more.
My son has bought a ring to give to the girl who lives next door.
In wartime we were enemies; fighting for the Blue and Gray.
Now our womenfolk make plans for our children’s wedding day.
Here, in the autumn of our lives, all enmity is defused.
Each has learned to know and love his foe- by walking in his shoe.