I was moving out
Parked my bike down the street
With a cart hinged on the bolt beneath the rusty pole
connected to my seat.
The yard was steep, and the stairs leading down
the front
Vanished each car-
go carrying trip
of dictionaries and travel guides that
could have been lumped together in boxes
separately tossed into the neon
green
synthetic fiber
rain-proof buggy
Connected to my seat.
I ran across the lawn, one last time
Buckling the watch I found from high school
remembering it’s broken and not caring
then I saw men wearing polos beneath
Greek symbols beneath a doorway
and held my breath as they stared at me.
This vacant lot held something which I carried back
to find
my bike was gone, replaced
by a life-sized depiction of a bike saying
“no bikes--” A girl inside, explaining where I could find mine
I walked down the grey spiral of handicapped access ramps
surrounded by aquariums or tvs
which comprised the store's interior.
The last ramp faced an exit and went straight past
refrigerators next to vending machines
In the alley behind this office supply store were two old men
Roasting my bike on a chain beside the others
Disconnected, hung
its tires lying on the ground beside their feet
and the carriage slung aside like a bloodied gazelle's neck.
“What the ****!”
A woman got into my face “don’t use that word”
“****’s a perfectly good word, after all, it’s how we
got here”
One man smiled.
He felt bad.
They helped me put the bike together and I walked it back to my house.
I saw my car down the street.
I thought about the long trip to the interstate and wondered why I’d
rode my bike
Then I went back up the stairs of the blue sided hill,
to see the roommate I hated
and thought about stealing his SNES and stereo
but took only my one possession
and walked past rotting turkey bacon in a plastic pouch
on the top of a table
beside some legos
and left.

Helen wiped
her thick lens glasses

with the hem
of her school dress

and you watched
her finger and thumb

move around the glass
in circular motion

Can you see much
without your glasses?

you asked
she looked up at you

and said
Not much

you for instance
are like a small tree

without leaves
with thin branches

hanging down
you smiled and saw

as she lifted the hem
a glimpse of thigh

white as one kept
out of sun and light

But what do I look like
with your glasses on?

you asked
looking at her face

and eyes that squinted
quite naked

without the specs
A boy who’s cheeky

but often shy
especially around girls

and their blue eyes
and dark curls

and she giggled
and dropped

the hem of
her dress

and put her glasses on
and her eyes enlarged

and gazed at you
taking in

your unkempt hair
and school boy grin

and at that moment
as she stood stifling

her giggle with one
small hand

you sensed a love
you neither had before

nor could
in the light of day

and innocence of youth
quite understand.

Summer rain came suddenly
and you and she

had just got off the school bus
and had to run for shelter

and so entered the wood
and settled beneath some trees

which at least kept off
some of the rain

and as you both stood there
looking about the woodland

and listening to the rain
fighting its way through

the overhead branches and leaves
smelling the rain smell

hearing the sound
of rain falling

she said suddenly
That was unexpected

one minute the sun’s shining
the next the downpour

and she turned
and looked at you

raindrops falling down
from her hair onto

the side of her nose
and sitting there

for a few moments
then sliding down

and moving along
her cheek

and you wiped
the drops off

with the end of your finger
and she took your finger

and mouthed it
and licked off the rain

and held your finger
in her hand

and said laughing
That was my raindrop

and you saw
how her lips parted

and in such a way
that you sensed

an inner explosion
of what you thought of

as love and said
Rain is rain

it’s got its own smell
and touch

and feel
and she moved her lips

to your finger
and licked it once more

and you laughed
and felt your heart leap inside

and she said
releasing your finger

Love is love
something like rain

something you feel
and sense and know

and she kissed you and said
Mum’ ll wonder where I am

we’d better go
and moving out

from beneath the trees
you ran off together

into the falling rain
all over again.

Nothing's kosher for Passover
so it's you me and some salad for the week.
This is, of course, alright with me.
At the end of the month we're taking  a trip to the beach;
I'll be slim and shivering
like the spring leaves that unfurl
when I am not looking
or when I am asleep.

For the same reasons that I stay hungry
for dinner and tired for bed, I keep my
heart a little lonely for poetry; that way,
I can imagine your weathered hands against
my pale thighs as clinging starfish – my
fingernails, bleached cockleshells washed up
on the barely evening beach of your back.