I say to my woman, "Jeffers was
a great poet. think of a title
like Be Angry At The Sun. don't you
realize how great that is?

"you like that negative stuff." she
says

"positively," I agree, finishing my
drink and pouring another.
"in one of Jeffers' poems, not the sun poem,
this woman ***** a stallion because her
husband is such a gross spirit. and it's
believable. then the husband goes out
to **** the stallion and the stallion
kills him."

"I never heard of Jeffers," she
says.

"you never heard of Big Sur? Jeffers
made Big Sur famous just like D. H. Lawrence
made Taos famous. when a
great writer writes about where he
lives the mob comes in and takes
over."

"well you write about San Pedro," she
says.

"yeah," I say, "and have you read the
papers lately? they are going to construct
a marina here, one of the largest in the
world, millions and billions of dollars,
there is going to be a huge shopping
center, yachts and condominiums every-
where!"

"and to think," my woman says smiling, "that you've only
lived here for three years!"

"I still think," I say,
changing the subject,
"you ought to read Jeffers."

easy on the transmission
she says and
i feel
skin on my hand
i breathe a little

think of your happy place
she says and
i see
waves
and palm trees

where are you
she says and
i say
the beach

you hate the beach
she says and
i nod
in agreement

i can smell
the liquor
through the phone
while
you
rip
up
all the stitches
you scrambled
to
sew
together.

i don't know why
i keep
wasting
my time.
on these
careless
pursuits.

i cant
tell who
is supposed
to win.

I really thought I found her

I bought groceries today,
and held my bags in my hands
while i waited for my car to arrive.
leaning by the carts
bundled in a winter coat
cursing the wind
watching the family's walk in and out.

A cashier walks out and stands beside me
Bags under her eyes, a little smile
She comments on the cold weather
and lights up a smoke.
coughing with each breath.
A few more puffs
and she throws it on the pavement
and goes back to work.
the smoke still rises
I am still waiting
for my car.

A garbage man walks up to me
he smiles brightly, his eyes big and warm.
and says that mother nature only got it half right today,
the suns out but its too **** cold.
I chuckle and nod as he removes the filled trash from the can
"she never loses that ******* does she? I think she likes us cold"

"haha, I guess so!"
We exchange a smile, and he goes off to the next can.

I wait for my car.

The cigarette that the cashier left is still burning
the wind pushed it back to the door
And I watch closely as every leg danced around it
and every wheel rolled beside it.
The smoke kept coming.

A family of three exits the store
a handsome man in his mid thirties
and a burgundy coat pushed the cart with his wife
while his young son walked ahead of them.
The son pulled out a flyer and began to read
His father approached him
and ripped it from his hand,
crumpled it
and threw it in the garbage beside me.
He looked his son in his eyes
"you're being ridiculous"

They kept walking
The smoke kept rising
The can isn't empty anymore
and I'm still waiting for my car.

My Aunt Hazel smokes so much
She watched the curtains burn red.

She looks and sounds like Patty and Selma.
A pitbulls bark for a swoon
That rises like the tide
At any who dare
To swing words like swords.

No smooth edges on Aunt Hazel
A dash of whisky might
Bring out the tiger within the lion.
A lion with oddly questionable views on hot-button topics,
spoken with irrational confidence.

A beautifully real caricature of an east coast mother.
So deeply entwined in the comfort of small town fallacy
And big time conspiracy theory.
Although, those two might go hand in hand.

But

She makes gowns for a living.
Her skin withered like an old catchers mitt.
Strong is the storm that knocks on the glass
But every crack in the wall always ends up filled by her hands.

The silent whales of watching your oldest boy
Thank you for everything
While he rips the tendons off his belly
That connected two forces from ever being apart
And wondering how she could bear it again
And again.  

I envy the ease of such loving hate.
To wield venom
And dedicate your life
To helping love.

My Aunt Hazel smokes so much
You'd think she didn't know what love was.
And that if it were real
It must be at the end of a cigarette.

My Aunt Hazel smokes so much
She watched the curtains burn red
And smoked the pack through.

love is all i know
in all its forms.
puzzled faces ask how could i know
at so young.

i've given away every part of me.
as everyone says it's noble
to give so much.
but I've seen no open arms
no one knows how to treat something they've never seen.

a whole world built on blissful ignorance.
where following all the rules doesn't actually make you happy.

i could power this ******* city
with the time i've wasted
pouring my soul into someone else
to make sure they're full.