At Death's Door

At Death’s Door

ten years ago, we brought home
two little bundles of fur, one, a little
white snowball, the other, the color
of butterscotch candies.
little butterscotch still had a
shaved hip from surgery.
they cuddled together in their
carrier in the back of the car.
butterscotch and snowflake
did flips, hopped over each other
and played chase over the years,
interspersed with long naps, languid chewing
of my once-nice coffee table, and
gradually turning my rug into a
collection of frayed fibers.
butterscotch is long gone, and snowflake
hardly moves anymore. every
morning i dread looking for him,
afraid of what i know is coming,
death is at his door, knocking
knocking.

Non Sequitur

she and i were having a lovely
conversation by the river,
watching the boats drift by,
women in colorful hats holding
onto their lovers’ hands, or
holding their new baby wrapped
in baby blue or pastel pink
swaddling. yes, it was lovely.
sharing old memories, looking
ahead towards new adventures;
new novels, poems and travels.
the conversation turned all of
a sudden and in a glance, i realized
i knew nothing about her, nor
she about me.

Black Birds

Black Birds

he came running towards
me, smiling at the sight of me,
slowing to a stop, removing
headphones, I can hear the music
from here.
we exchanged pleasantries,
yeah, all’s well,
but I watched his face closely
to see if I could believe it.
The sky darkened and I glanced
up to see a cloud of black
birds circling overhead.

Enveloped in Beauty

Enveloped in Beauty

yellow and orange
arches of aspen dressed in
fall colors envelop us
in beauty
fallen leaves double
as Christmas ornaments
on pine and fir trees
standing sentinel
on the forest floor.

Belongings

I had wanted that one thing
so badly, and it wrenched my
heart to see it disappear into
the distance, that sultry night
in Chicago.
A small thing, hardly worth
identifying, you’d find it
so silly.
But to me, it meant everything
and my chance for
happiness in the world
diminished with every turn
the driver took on that road.
There was no substitute for
exactly what I wanted that
dark night in Chicago.
So small,
yet so large in meaning at
the same time.
Something about belonging,
yes, it’s all about belonging.

Never Let Me Go

Never Let Me Go

The name of the weirdest page turner
that I have ever read

about
human clones reared in special camps
for people whose life mission is to donate
organs until they “complete”, and yet, in spite of careful,
sterile upbringing, still manage to
want what is the most human of desires;
to be loved.

the desire of every human to be loved,
my desire to be loved.
to know you will never let me go.
You will embrace me in spite of
my shortcomings, my fears,
the silly things I do
like getting mad at you
for not reading my mind correctly.

Never Let Me Go.

Zybek Industries

Zybek industries

I’ve passed it hundreds of times,
tucked between RallySport and the
Indoor Soccer Arena.
Between dodging
gargantuan Cadillac Escalades
and the latest model Mini Coopers,
I never noticed it.
Yesterday, I opened the dull
single grey door and entered
into a vast warehouse filled with
forklifts, arrays of metal shelving
filled with robotic machine parts,
metal stock, and the piece de resistance,
a plasma beam melter.
At the moment, all is quiet
but evidence of cataclysmic heat
and light abound, dust everywhere
of all varieties, golden to black,
smooth to jagged and cutting.
An hour later, I exited the same
grey door, dodged a few latest
model cars, jumped on my bike
and went home.