Today she wore curlers in her hair
looking like cannons staked out ready to blare

Her lipstick and powder
like bouillabaisse chowder

And when she demanded a goodbye "peck"
I said "No way!" to the wreck

Which made her rear back and bray
"Go home then and kiss a stingray!"

She cackled and cackled
raising my hackles

Thinks she is the second Joan Rivers
but she only gives me the shivers

Soon I was fearing another fight nearing
seeing her witch's eyes evilly peering

And when she rose in those clumpy army boots
I heard an arpeggio of loud flatulent *****

Forcing me out the door needing fresh air
and away from her threatening glare

But one day I'll be back
once I can align myself on the proper son-in-law track

an astounding sounding guitar
in its fall against
a plump porcelain pig
brings thumps
from three goldfish
squirming on newspaper
about to be dumped into a bowl
of fresh water and faux flora
by the maid in a cute yellow taffeta cap
and strawberry red shoes
lifted on toes

at splash

soprano winds leveling hungry gardens
evening violins laid to rest with strange pats
loud dragnets like a pouring rain in blinding twilights
children stoic under their parents' quixotic calmings
lampshades of suspicious parchment fostering incredulous laughs
evidence soon mounting against disbelief
ledgers bearing only numbers kept in wide official pockets
clouds evoking train cars passing high above beget whispers
of what can't be
IS

Germany 1938

Charlie's hat
Do you know where it's at?

Where did it go?

Is it bobbing in the middle of the ocean
in limbo?
Or smashed down on the curls
of a naughty *****?

Some people say a greedy Joe
bought it at auction.
Others say it must be in a museum somewhere-
common fate for a relic of silent film fare.

Charlie's hat
Where did it go?
Do you know where it's at?

Why where it's always been at!
On the top of his head
and will sit there eternally, at that,
along with his winsome walk
and heartfelt smile!

So for all those feeling low and blue
beckon him to doff it at you
for a great laugh or two ...
or three...
or four...
or more!

i abide a lover without arms
in your long shadow reaching
though not for me
nor at the goat of my desire
tethered at my feet by fraying rope

i can hear your errant kisses
proffered in others' open doorways
know the cruel stealth of your escape
pinning my eyes
to your back never turning
in retreat
or your face
gifting a moment's qualm