Somewhere Really Good (5 Poems)

Somewhere Really Good

A woman, maybe not even,
pretending, trying to get there
in a hurry.
Now that I think about it–
it’s a classic story.
Puts on some makeup
lying around,
slithers into a narrow hole
of a dress, and starts dancing,
beckoning. We just assume
they learn it
somewhere really good
because they pick up
so easy and it’s always

exactly

what we want.

Night

A lone lamp post

fends off the darkness
on a street corner.
Nothing moves.
The light scorches,
the wings of roaches

glimmer
in the mouth of a sewer.

Thinking About Christmas

A kid tears
boxes open
knowing 9 out of 10
are not it.

An old man
tears
boxes open
knowing
it isn’t there.

Oblivious

What would I do if I caught your eye?
I’d think too much of nothing you’d ever think.
There’d be a pause when people would shrink.
Of course, I’d look away just as quickly
because I’d never want to see you peek,
not a second fleetingly.
And I’d make a great show of walking,
whistling a tune in my head and prancing.
You’ll go about your business, as you should,
because you won’t give a hoot
even if you could.

The Moon

Teetering between now and tomorrow,
wanting to do nothing,
nothing worth wanting.
Then you appear in the center
of a busy square
of Tuesday,
all the scrambling about, flying emails,
and one-hour something lunches,
plans to get fit, tangled cords
and someone’s dry, thin hair strands
on the floor.
You’re spinning them,
they’re tied to you
almost strangling

your long,

beautiful,

creamy

neck.

And I’m hopping about
from rock to rock
around this asteroid belt of
pessimistic
pandemic
productivity.
I remember my college Physics
professor who told me
the moon is forever
trying to fall but failing.
Aching to
SMASH
the Earth
but missing,
so it ends up
always being back
where it used to be,
each time more consumed
by a maddening
desire
to be one.
Fuming to corrupt.
Erupt.

Oh, God will rue the day
the moon drops
because that will be the night
I just stop
the nonsense
of a good pay,
a good life
for the greatest
fuck.