Jibber jabber gobbledee-goo
tittle tattle engenues
verbosely nosey Velcro verbs
sibilant smacks or lips a purse
wealthy whacks stickball whips
no tweet or talk but mailbox spit
gnawing down our chews of cud
converse with street rubber tongues
pinky-swore on Bazooka gum
summer wonder learning none
we Schwin & Huffy bike the day
child hood friends what else to say?
especially at that age...
Teeny tiny laughter dust
we race like Del Mar champion studs
no babble trouble wordy sting
our Super 8 remembering
"look no handle bars!"
our arms for wings
young ole boys California Kings...

The footsteps of one voice, impressions made
Upon the crown of worlds we are and not
Familiar. A voice asphyxiated now
By God’s eternal rest, the steps scrubed,
All evidence of past existence void.
The algid night warmed by sunset’s palette.
Coastland is cast aside in the gloom and cold,
Of winters bite and scratch that seeps inside.
The sands of Time and Shore joined silent by
Invisible mortar, like by magnets choice.
Frost sways and rocks above the muted town,
Then turns descending swift as kites retreat.
The waves verbosely lap along the shore,
Companion’s creased hand pulses mine with life.
My poignant awareness of being paused,
By sight of the delicate form of a
Butterfly lying in the sand so still.
Beholding her, the small shell of one life,
Whose wings so perfect, eerie and intact.
My pulsing hand held the laconic frame
Of life whose soul had fled to greater heights.
So great its beauty and so great my awe,
That felt I a vivid urge to lift mine eyes
To sky so vast, to heaven far away.

Linkedin to being lax,
and shirking house cleaning tasks,
which negligence cost us
(yours truly and the missus)
a golden opportunity
to relocate to Hillcrest Village
in Boyertown, Pennsylvania
another HUD subsidized property
under the aegis of Grosse and Quade,
one of the larger residential
property management firms
in the Delaware Valley.

Physical unwellness
(insync with racing heart) arose
because Kathleen Bergen
the new property manager
here at 2 Highland Manor
voiced absolute zero positive feedback,
upon taking lock, stock, and barrel
of appalling living conditions,
her blistering vocalization
(from wuthering heights)
translated as a foregone conclusion
against our hopes
pinned on moving into
two bedroom apartment
referenced above topmost lines.

Said plummeted disappointment
(courtesy blunt admission
out the mouth of
(humpty dumpty sat on a wall)
frumpty recent hire
identified in a previous poem
as new warden)
verbosely predicated upon
gross appearance of living space
immediately dashed cautious optimism
citing unkempt state
within no crater than
moonwalking unit b44,
whereby we wished to skadaddle
far away from obligation
to be mindful of rules and regulations
codified within a binding lease.

Unlikely home ownership
will ever come to pass,
nor the lesser prospect
to rent more spacious domicile
larger than a one bedroom apartment,
no bigger than a bread box
den me and the missus,
(a hen pecking spouse)
might befriend Bugs Bunny,

who might guarantee
adequate sized rabbit hole
constituting large enough wonderland
receiving stamp of approval
courtesy Alice in Chains
subsidized lodging money back
plus additional warren tee
granted by Mister Michael Fox,
who took me back to the future,

when the pace of life
plodded along at leisurely rhythm.
Only within outer limits
realm of twilight zone,
where dark shadows
inch along edge of night
(while two thumbs and index finger
belonging to separate good sports
grab hold the furcula

(or wishbone) structure
formed by the ventral fusion
of the right and left clavicles
and the median interclavicle
silently mouth invocation)
holds at bay, the inexplicable phenomena
moored, harbored, and docked
awaiting lucky recipient,
whose merrythought bestowed
upon he/she, they/them.