They played the odds
against their Gods
and watched the cards fall
Babylon was tall
but God was taller
than them all.

I am almost 74.  I sigh as I type
that out.  I remember the first 45rpm record I ever bought.
Sonny James. "Young Love."
I played it for forever on the
old record player we had in the
basement. $.79

The sunshine of those first
moments of fiscal liberty
burned into my mind.  
It is a fleeting moment
still turning, singing
"they say for every boy and
girl"...

We all whirl in the dirndl
of time. The dances were
named then.  The slow songs
my favorite.  I have no idea
if people dance now.  What
Blue Skies and Wine and
Roses are there today to
weave the time.  

I live in a Lonesome Town,
with a dwindling number of
friends.  The only thing left
of the lovers who slow-danced
me are the grooves across
the face of a long life lived

across a jukebox of illusion.


Caroline Shank

it was a charming night
She really
liked a man who could
drive her from
the restaurant after having
quite some glasses
to drink
and he was that man

He drove her to
his house
and helped her out of the
car like a
gentleman
and even held her hand
all the way to
the door

Her heart was pounding
and her brain too. A voice
kept saying
'He's the one. He's the one!'

It was silenced
when she saw two small
animal heads on his
doorstep. A cat's and
a bunny's. The doormat
was soaked with
their blood

She froze and
the gentleman said, “Oh crap,
not this **** again.”
And he walked up to
them and kicked them
to the side like mini soccer *****

“My ex-wife,” he said with a shrug. “Just
another one of
her antics. You get used
after a while.”
He opened the door and
motioned her in

She hesitated

Whiny Wobert Smiff:
Paleface poser
Bad-hair bard
Of teen existentialism.

Droning three-chord dirges
Wobbly Wobert
About to burst--
Not into flames,
But girlish tears.

Superficial woes
Suburban emo . . .

Wobert, Wobert
Your mascara is running
As fast as it can
Away from the 80s.

I am ashamed
To have seen The Cure
Live in 1983.

It did not cure me.

It falls like rain
Simple and plain
Dropplets riddle
Each other
And the ground moves them
Together

And in a pool
Recallers whirl
Darting away
As if
Run by some fool
Swiming like they would never reach the floor

Well you just stepped
In little waves
On which God knows how many wept
But where painters
Got their own caves