One day, my wife
Gave me a kiss
So I asked her why
Now why is this

She said that she
Felt bad for me
So I quizzed her, what
What can it be

She said it’s just
Because you see
I’m real cute
And you’re, ugly

Oh, I’m only joking, she sighed            
Don’t get yourself all riled                        
And as she turned and walked away
She winked, and then she smiled              
BOEMS BY JA 48

this time, when i went
to meet Death at his place,
he showed signs of weakness.
he was watching a cricket match
relaxing in his arm chair, legs stretched.
yawns kept rolling
in slow progression
towards the boundary.

'are you well?’ i ventured.
'nothing wrong,’ said he.

stammering, i quizzed him:
which one do you fear most?
allopathy, ayurveda, or
homeopathy?

dear wilson,
have you observed sachin
facing the ***** of shane warne?
brian lara, wasim akram?
chris gail, brett lee?

i was thrown into confusion.

death admitted, unwillingly,
that like vivian richards
confronted narendra hirwani,
he was laid low by the
secret herb
of an old tribal man!

aaha! the panacea
became then
a spin ball!
(aaha…Nothing official about it!)

i forgot to ask
how our people
smuggled away by him
were faring now.

he forgot to comment
“you will see for yourself
when you face it.”

After the incident
we gathered in the reception area
Stalling
Making small talk
Vaguely excited and vaguely bored

We were leaning into
Little gala tables
Covered in white linen
Raised for conversation or
Fashionable idleness

Why look who’s here!
You were slipping by
Like a noblewoman
Floating in her day-dress
so the human machinations didn't show

Why it’s been thirty years if not a day!
It’s not like you were exactly moved
My friend, your friend
barely roused you
Are you plastic?
A formally once-was?
You looked at me as if your eyes were
Marbles
Made of glass and somewhat pretty,
Just for decoration
It was hard to say in such darkness
Your darkness in particular
It may have been the suit.

I know that they’ve fêted you here before.
A king returns!
Is it the magma chamber
for your imminence?
Or a mere
Alcove?

The face doesn’t really move
Much anymore
Forever frozen in a slight smugness
Your mouth that strikes me as
somewhat meta
if that’s at all possible
And it seems to be
A bit rude
A noirish marvel
A dark star

Funny you never once looked at me really
Never said Hello
Nor Good Evening
And the things that
I could have said
Do you remember how you tried to drill a hole into a poured concrete floor
with a cheap tool
while we laughed about dentistry
as opposed to *** practices
How I tried to find a cherry picker
through the yellow pages
on a Saturday afternoon
How you quizzed me about my practice and how I played dumb
How your dealer ate my dinner when I was looking to the right

But I remained silent
bemused more than disgusted
It has been a long time and
Why would that
forgotten phospherence
be me?

I wanted to say
Did you know
that that penthouse after-party
at the
Marmont
was one of the saddest nights of my life?
I leaned over the balcony and stared at the Marlborough Man
puffing rings onto Sunset Blvd.
Desperate.
How has it come to this I asked
shocked myself
This has all gone so wrong.
I looked down upon the street
watching the rings echo
and cars swerving off to nowhere

No amount of drink can fix this night
and they killed the joint without me
being boys.
One is now dead by hanging.
I’d have preferred the other.

But here you are.
Silent
with absent eyes
after all these years
I never opened my mouth
I couldn’t seem to configure the lips precisely
I don’t know why
Perhaps they refused to comply
despite my feathery efforts.
No need.

An acquaintance of the deceased,
Hernandez was quizzed by police.
If charged, he'll post bail
for a tight end in jail
cannot even shower in peace!

It is again, plunk into pit of being
See it as is, truer than what is believing
Misconceiving notion was, still quizzed
Taken back to cage humility

Sterile, these tears, flush waves emotion
Devotion to you dear, causing commotion
Hardly do I go there, yet comes the missing
Insisting on revisiting the elicit

Still pouring over, drains illusion
Intrusion cruel, truth bearing contusion
Purge hid secrets kept by psyche's rule
Plant seeds in dry field's thought

Caught waiting for monsoon to wash over
Soak essence enduring, be nature, know her
Rain overcomes me, shell relinquished
Distinguished, I sprout again

And then, I remember once more
I am extinct

My roommates are all up and about. It’s finals week and everyone is hustling about. Lisa came in from an early exam, it was snowing lightly, she looked right at home.

“How’d it go?” I quizzed.
“E-Z,” she replied, shedding her long navy coat and mango cashmere beanie. After dumping it all on her bed she joined us in the common room. “Blue State (coffee) is closing,” She announced.

Leong gasped, “What?”
“Three of the four Blue State locations are closing,” Lisa confirmed, “not Orange Street.”
“Why?” Leong moaned.
“What are you why? Lisa queried.
“They’re so popular!” Leong exclaimed, “There’s always SO many people in there.”
“That’s real,” I chimed in, “those places are packed and noisy.”
“They got bought out,” Lisa attested.
“By whom?” Leong wondered.
“By another coffee company.. maybe,” Lisa guessed soothingly.
“Oh, I hope so.” Leong stated, sounding depressed.
“You know what? Lisa added, “rumors were thick that Book Trader would close too.”
“No!” Leong bemoaned.
“I’m happy to announce that they’re not.” Lisa assured, “That’s something to celebrate.”
“I love studying at Book Trader.” I professed.
“And their bagels..” Leong mentioned dreamily.
“Oh, yeah,” Lisa agreed, “so good, so cheap.”
“Change is ineluctable,” Anna sighed.  
“WHAT?” Leong replied, looking confused.
“Inevitable,” Lisa told her, “change is inevitable.”
“Then just say that.” Leong grumbled at Anna, who shrugged.
“I need to go support my favorite coffee shop soon,” I declared.
“Which is?” Leong inquired.
“Coffee with a K,” Lisa and I blurted out, both at once. “It has an intimate, date spot vibe,” I explained, “and the chairs that are perfect for putting an arm around someone.”
“The Benjamin and Acorn (two on campus coffee shops) are going to be so crowded.” Sunny stated, joining the conversation as she started putting on her shoes to go out.
“True THAT.” I agreed.
“Common Grounds Cafe,” Sophie revealed, coming from her room, drying her hair with a towel, “bought out Blue State,” she confirmed. “it was in the Yale News.”
“OK,” I pronounced, satisfied. “Perfect.” Lisa declared. “Thank God.” Leong agreed.
“Coffee’s important.” Sunny proclaimed, picking up her coffee cup and book bag. “See ya!” she waved to the room absently, with her coffee cup, as she opened the door and stepped out.

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Gianni's hadn't opened yet
But, the bar was going strong
If you listened, in the distance
You heard the working of a song

The regulars were present
The Captain, Soldier and the kid
The bartender was cleaning
'Cause that was what she did

The sun, well, it was shining
It was a great day all around
And in the alley sat The Blues man
Sitting still upon the ground

Nothing, any different
Than most any other day
The street folk passing greetings
While the Blues man chose to play

The bell above the bar door rang
As a stranger came on in
The dust hung in a sunbeam
Falling  from the old bell of tin

In back of old Gianni's
The Blues man played a Dylan tune
He slid right into Guthrie
It was a perfect afternoon

The stranger grabbed the bar's end stool
He ordered up and looked around
Then he said, "excuse me barkeep"
"Just exactly, what's that sound?"

She said it was The Blues man
He's a legend on the street
The man said, "sounds intriguing"
"He is someone I should meet"

The Captain ordered up a shot
The juke box started playing
In the corner sat an old man
Not quite sure if he was staying

The barkeep quizzed the stranger
Said "You're off the normal route"
"Most stranger get directions"
Then he pulled a card out of his suit

He said his name was  Edwards
He wasn't lost, he had a plan
He'd heard about the music
Now he came to meet the man

"It says here you do A & R"
"You can sit here and can listen"
"But, The Blues man isn't gonna talk"
"You have nothing that he's missing"

The music in the bar was rock
Out in back, a bluesy lick
You could listen to the tunes inside
Or go out back, you had your pick

"Can I at least go out and see him?"
"You can but won't get far"
Then she put his card with others
She had collected in a jar

"You see those cards all in there?"
"Thirty three more just like you"
"Have come around here snffing"
"Like he's some creature in a zoo"

"See that girl there in the corner?"
The man nodded that he did
"Talk to her, she'll tell you"
"She runs the book store, she's his kid"

The Blues man played some Chapin
Let loose on Thunder Road
Took a small sip from his hip flask
It was hidden, rarely showed

The man asked for an ashtray
Was told "you cannot smoke in here"
"But, the old man in the corner..."
She said sssshhhh, and poured a beer

"The folks round here have stories"
"Some good, and some are bad"
"He's the only one that I let smoke"
"The old man's story is quite sad"

"Stick around a while, see"
"Just what makes the street click"
"There's a hundred different stories"
"Look around and take your pick"

"But, what about The Blues man?"
"I can give him things he hasn't got"
"You will learn sir, that possessions"
"Make him something he is not"

"He plays music in the alley"
"He does't know if you are there"
"He plays what his soul is feeling"
"He'll play to you, or to the air"

"Your best bet, is to sit here"
"Leave him be, don't light the fuse"
"You may set him on a tangent"
"And he just may lose his muse"

"He's a part of everybody here"
"He's a savior, and a sage"
"He's The Blues man to the street folk"
"But, he's from a different age"

"Have a beer, talk to his daughter"
"Play some darts, the beer's on me"
"My advice, I hope you'll take it"
"Is to let The Blues man be"

"Go back to where you came from"
"Tell the folks who sent you here"
"That The Blues man declined nicely"
"And then you two shared a beer"

He smiled, looked to the corner
Ordered one more, "I concur"
"while you're pouring out my lager"
"pour one more drink for her"

He went off to the corner
Introduced himself and sat
Never mentioned his profession
And that they say is that

The Blues man played some Johnson
The A & R man stayed a while
He looked back toward the barkeep
She looked back, and shared a smile

stars crinkle under our feet
bouncing off the blades of moonlit grass
carried downstream in the canal behind
my house
I walk down memory lane with my brother Lou
Lou lost it in his teens diagnosed schizoid
but able to function under guidance and meds
together we lug a cumbersome old wooden box
to the trash
gently I quizzed him
“do you remember us when we were little
on our sled all the snow and fun we had?”
Lou stares blankly into the night,
“I was never small, I was made 6 ft. 3 in.”
“but I have a photo of us”
again Lou denies that such a time ever existed,
insisting that he sprang full-grown
from the mind of some unknown madness
Christmas lights blink coloring his face
red then green
“That's alright Lou, I remember....”
whispering goodnight
I tuck Lou under the blankets
of my heart
and watch him trudge away
a small boy in a gray snowsuit


“Time it was, and what a time it was, it was
A time of innocence, a time of confidences
Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph
Preserve your memories, they're all that's left you”

(Simon & Garfunkle, 1968)

How many breakups does it take to ***** in a lightbulb?
You light me up like the humming glow of a microwave oven
How many makeups does it take to finally make up?
I've lost count but I love abundance
How many chances does it take for a man to act right?
I've lost count again but I've never been good at math
I've never been good at many things but I've always been good at love
Or so I think and hope and wish upon the stars above
I wanna be good to you
First we had to be bad
It's the kind of love that drives you mad
The kind of love that is awfully sad
Until you barely feel anything at all
Until you sleep and dream about that slow-motion fall
Until you feel everything at once
Until you realize you're both ******* s
How much more?
What's the cost?
I'm poor in judgement
But rich in emotion
Still searching for that treasure in the ocean
Is it hopeless? Is it worth it?
Will it make me sea sick?
I've always been a hopeless romantic
Will I get what I want like I always do?
No, no, never
Not when it comes to you
It's the endless chase that makes my heart race
And might put me into cardiac arrest
Up until now I've been quizzed
But you're the real test

I knew I should be alone
after the torment meant for me
had gone on and on and on and on
'til loud 2:46 a.m. was freed.
I searched for something to fill the void
that toyed with whatever mind I had left.
I opened cans, broke bottles, and soiled
what good I had left when you left.
So I met this one who unfurled and quizzed me to death.
And I loved her laughter, and she said, "Suddenly,
"I miss you when I'm not near you. My breath
"feels incomplete when I linger . . . without you."
And I thought, Finally, happiness is no afterthought;
but still I was empty as a camel thirsting
in the Sahara, groveling, with no life bought,
even in the oasis that was burning through this rot.
And then this amazing girl came right in front of me,
came on my face, and came on my crotch;
but I was emptier than a lonely pier out at sea.
I knew then this new sin she and I shared was botched
from the start when I said, "Hello,
"may I enchant you sometime?"
And over time I grew hollow, more hollow,
most hollow, when she tells me "You're all mine."
You haunt me still in my sleep and in the quiet;
your image seared right into my skin.
And I no longer have the will to calm this riot,
your voice embedded deep within.
It's 12:24 a.m., and my being yearns to feel hers,
but my heart belongs to someone else.
I see her for her in the dourest hours,
but yours is my birthright, and I haven't felt myself
being—trying to feel—all right.

I’ve only been at my fellowship gig a week, but It’s official, I’m a candy-striper. Sort of, I wear a blue vest, not the old, red-striped dress, but it’s the same job. I shadow my surgeon (Rebecca) most of the time, like when she does her rounds but otherwise, I study or try to be helpful by delivering specimens to the lab, messengering things from Rebecca to other doctors or assisting the nursing staff with very minor, mundane things.

My training, so far, has consisted more of what-nots than anything else. “You are not a doctor, you don’t comment, don’t advise, don’t touch anything, don’t perform CPR and if a medical emergency occurs, get out of the way - put your back against the wall.” I made up the “back against the wall” part but that’s the soul of it. I’m just an observant pair of eyes and ears or a Yale lampshade.

When Rebecca (my surgeon) does rounds, she usually has five or six interns in tow (medical school graduates who are first-year residents). The interns review patient charts and get quizzed about symptoms, their meanings and possible treatments. It’s very interesting to watch the process up close - these people are wicked-smart (that’s a Boston saying).

Growing up, my parents were both doctors. I found myself standing, listlessly, a million times, waiting in hospital corridors or by nurses' stations for one or both of them to break free so we could leave. I was exposed to 17 years of medical jargon, as they discussed treatments with other doctors or passed on their final instructions for the night. I’d roll my eyes impatiently, but I guess I absorbed more than I realized. I can pretty much follow the consults as they do the rounds.

I met two new people last week, who I think I’ll see a lot of - Jammie and Quinn. They’re both rising-juniors and fellows, from other schools, working with other surgeons. Jammie’s a handsome, gay, black man from Georgetown University (my brother Brice’s Alma mater). He’s loud, fun and smart, very smart.

Quinn, on the other hand, seems like a short, officious little ****. When we were introduced, he cast his eyes over me slowly and deliberately like a frat-boy or an experienced stock ******* and from the way he talks, you’d think he owned the place. He’s from some second rate, local college, called Harvard.

Funny story, Jammie and I had just met and we were looking-up some fellowship information, on his laptop, I was looking over his shoulder and as he flipped around - his computer files and folders were SO organized - there wasn’t a stray file anywhere - not one. As we were huddled closely together I said, conversationally, because where I come from it means nothing and I guess I have no filters, “Are you gay?” He cringed, shocked, and laughingly said “SHHH!” He wasn’t “out” at work. I swore his secret safe and we became fast friends.

Jammie, besides being a molecular, cellular, and developmental biology major (pre-med track), is an observational comedian and as he’s thinking out loud - at a hundred miles an hour - I wish I could record him, so I could play him back later, slowly and deliciously to take it all in. We had lunch together in the cafeteria Friday and when our time was up, I discovered I hadn’t eaten anything. I’d been too busy listening to him open-mouthed or laughing.

I also realized I’m spoiled and not used to working indoors all day. We come in at 8 and we're released at 4:30. It’s almost a shock to see the sky isn’t fluorescent-lit and the breeze isn’t tainted with antiseptic smells. That was fellowship week 1.

2am talking to you...
The hum of a neon sign, Emitting light so tranquil
Purple Luminescence on your face. The sparkle in your eye, it brings life to all...
The smile in your words     In comparison everything so small.    

In conversation vocalising the deep within

What can I say, 2am there is no filter Here.

The euphoria so intense
all Existence has so much Distance,
the world fades away...

Quizzed with the words you speak
Everything begins to dull
Everything so quiet and clear

The realisation of how much I hold you dear
I'd hate to think what I'd do  
Without you here

When i was born i was born as one
As soon as i came out my mothers womb my journey begun;
Learning that i was born into a world of sin
Thinking to myself growing was easy when i was within;
Now I'm in a world of hurt, pain, destruction by death
Wondering if death at birth would have been best;
Dropping to my knees and to god i cry
Talking to god on a personal note and just asking why;
There is no way you can make it by yourself
With all that's going on in the world your going to need something else;
So i told god " i need a angel"
One that could cover me from all angles
So that i could be protected from hurt, harm, and danger
sometimes your angel can be a stranger;
Life is a test quizzed by the best
One man who is stronger and power fuller than the rest;
I had to learn to just pray
It's only god that can get us through each and every day ;
So when my life turns up side down to tangle
i just look to the sky and say" Lord i need an angel"

Has anyone seen Leslie Brown?
She went missing earlier today.
A stranger in
A strange town,
Who probably just lost her way.

I’ve quizzed, enquired and questioned,
Almost everyone I know.
To be greeted by
A shaking of heads,
Puzzled expressions that say, ‘sorry, but no’.

Has anyone seen Leslie Brown?
I was meeting her at three.
She’s an Internet friend
Paying a visit,
I just can’t think where she might be.

In despair I checked with the police.
“Leslie Brown! Why yes: come when you can.”
When I arrived my
Cyber-space sweetheart,
Is not a lady, but a cross-dressed, ******* man!

© Paul Chafer 2014