a love poem, of new & old,
why I am the summer-man!^

summer is winding down,
sky’s multi blues freezer safe stored in ziplock see thru bags,
marked and named by hue, the where and the when,
so when the eyes finally fail, when the squinting don’t help,
when the good things those good blues aroused,
poems, lush and morning thanks for being alive come-not-at-all,
quite the opposite, these cold blues
may help, to recall why it was worth breathing

summer is winding down,
so am I, the synchrony no accident, time,
the Pharmacy kitchen calendar
claiming another victim, willing or not,
those cars and the blue eyed models,
are now but blurred wishes and hopes, even these words, spoken,
not finger scribed, for the keyboard a
jumbled jungle of alpha-numerical
of confusion hellish and
my sons don’t come to clean up my pathetic messes, sending
their little children, beloved concubines of my heart

the daytime watcher, spanglish her native lingo,
tho single words she’s pretty good at too, but that don’t help much;
the grands, toddlers to pre-teens, the eldest a womanly eight,
tries but soon frustration bored, slips away quiet like
replacing her with her two year old sister, who knows her alphabet
which ain’t an exactly a help, but her five pencils stored^ nearby,
tagged with her name, awaiting her poems, her one true legacy

try to imagine her as a grandmother, farseeing the day when she
occupied this too too hard to-get-out-of-by-myself “easy” chair,
making rhymes with her next-next generational  descendants,
faint remembering the silliness sorcery that I secreted in her brain;

zingo, bingo, lingo
tango, ginkgo, jingo,
** ** oh no, oh no!

ashes, gray hairy poppy is a silly,
when he is not a grumpy,
old man all fall down!

which she acts out with giggles galore,
adding a teacup embellishment,
a creme fraiche pearly teeth smile topping,
the day watcher agrees, verrry verrry funny,
but time to me *** and take a needed morning *****

no poppy! no poppy! no poppy!
no nap, no ***, no *****!
thinking the call out is for her,
stomping her feet in an alternating rhythm and rhymes

I, happy poppy, ecstatics drooling out,
foreseeing the rhyme is strong in her,
get wheeled away crinkled and crackling,

zingo, bingo, lingo
tango, ginkgo, jingo
** ** oh no, oh no!

ashes gray hairy poppy is a silly,
when he is not a grumpy,
old man all fall down!


a new genre me of gibberish summertime love poems