She offered me a cookie on my way out.

The people who smoke in cars
with the windows up during winter
are the same ones who still believe
that squinting helps one think harder
or remember the name of that actress.
They lick their wounds on beer-stained couches
illuminated by the blue glow of the TV screen
but can we blame them since we made them?

There was a man I knew who worked in the City.
He'd get to the skyscraper where his office was
forty-five minutes early each morning
because he chose to take the stairs.
The elevator riders didn't even know his name
even though he'd worked there for five years.
You see, he was claustrophobic...

If you really want an aging live-in relative to die
all you need to do is have a shower rail installed
or maybe one of those electric stair-rider jobs.
That's how God's odds work, they wait for construction
and good intentions to laugh in the faces of us ants.

I heard it said once at a seminar
that "The solution to pollution is dilution,"
and haven't been the same dry self since.
They're getting fatter in the dreams.
I guess that's a good thing.

In two hours I'll be directing a crane
at a local middle school
and then setting curbs on the roof
of Marlboro High in some sort of sick
pre-emptive measure some years too late.
It's all just more meaningless shop talk.
It's all not so funny anymore
but all I can do is laugh into the pillow
until my stomach hurts.

Last night we watched a movie in the basement
of the union hall at plumbing class.
The final frame was a Shakespeare quote
and the kid sitting next to me kicked my chair.
We smiled simultaneously, but for different reasons.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't see it coming.
Preacher, you raised a prophet.



Currently reading:
"The Complete Stories of Dorothy Parker"