2.26.2018

Have Gun, Will Travel

My second-favorite bartender
of all relative time
pops into the passenger seat
of a truck that's outperformed
its owner in ways the commercials
would never dare to mention.
Hypocrites ain't big on history.
It's hard to believe that I was 17
17 years ago, but my truck's
not like a rock.

It's almost her turn
to watch old men drown themselves
next to a murky river
but she's asked me to stop
on my way home from the same.
A white plastic shopping bag
laden with food containers
is placed on the floor
between her legs--
two places I know well
as she smirks at my amazement.

I notice that the tape
holding one of her hair extensions
is showing through the ponytail
she's thrown up in a rush.
She tells me that it doesn't matter
since she's not able to see it.
Pleased with her good deed
she exits, clad in black.

Before I shift the transmission
to head back where I hang myself nightly
I lean forward from the seat
to rub the surgical scar on my back
feeling the raised suture sites
and wonder if the doctor
removed more than he said.

2.18.2018

The Nurse Who More or Less Killed You

Cleaning out closets
on a nearly pantsless Sunday
you drag bags and boxes
from corners you've never seen
since you were working
during the move.
She painted accent walls
and decorated;
put your books on shelves
though you'd begged her not to
because the order made sense
in your head.

Seven years later
you're bursting through beams
so it's time to purge
the person you evicted.
What you find brings you back
to an era more stable.
You see her hand
in the placement of things
and recall her brain's operation.

Cans of paint and some brushes.
Sheets that don't fit your bed.
A dress that you've never
peeled off her
still hangs from a hook
in the back.
The GPS that you bought her
though without you
she found her way easily.
There's a gray plastic bag
with a knot that's not yours.
You open it, expecting Pandora.
Some makeup, shampoo
a toothbrush, a razor
and a T-shirt
you can't help
but shove to your face.
It smells only now
of cast aside cotton.

Every ounce of your discovery
winds up in the dumpster.
San Francisco's too far
to ship and to handle.

2.12.2018

Sea-Lashed

A wasted day at work
warrants a new wine.
Abortions are best
put to rest by a bottle.
This Sauvignon Blanc
from Southern Australia
lured me with its trout
on the label
like a fish in the aisle.
2014 was a better year
so it was worth a shot.

The notes, as described
reflect citrus and tropics.
There's nothing I hate more
than a liar put in print.
A tab on the left says
"To Remember, Peel Here".
I do so and look on the back
of the paper
but it's enviously blank.

I read the front again:
The brand, region
year, and varietal.
It's only a note
to stick in your wallet
for the next time
at the liquor store
in case you can't recall
what's worthy.

I shove it down the empty neck;
a meaningless message in a bottle.
I won't need the token.
Their marketing is brilliant
though millions
could be made
if it helped to forget.

My better hand rubs
a crooked coat of arms
and tries to bury a decade.

I wonder if I'll have
the tools I'll need for tomorrow.


Currently reading:
"Geek Love" by Katherine Dunn.

2.09.2018

How to Get Laid Through Housekeeping

Before the big date
some cleaning's in order
but don't go overboard.
You've got to sweep
the cobwebs just enough.
If it's spotless
you're a serial killer.
Make it look lived-in
though lately
you're surviving.
Make it seem normal
though no one after 30
knows exactly what that is.
Sweep, but leave a few dust lines.
Wash that pile of dishes
but not the French press
like you made coffee this morning.
Show her that you function
on a daily, healthy basis.

The ashtray's always empty
since you hate that you smoke
inside at night
when you're sipping wine
and typing
with a box fan in the window
so don't worry about that.

Think of Hemingway;
the wars he was blown up in
and watched from the sidelines.
Remember how it happened in Spain.

Your friends would urge you
to toss the tablecloth.
Ignore them.
It's been there for you
through too many nights.
The burn holes only add character.

Under the influence of estrogen
clinging to clarity
and notes that you've saved
acknowledge the fact
that you've checked three times over:
There is no change
for the high altitude recipe.

Scratch your trigger finger
on a nightcap
and suck down the rest.

That dead fly you found
in the bottom of the fridge
has never heard of a husband stitch.
It's grateful.

2.07.2018

Juxtaposing

I hunted down this print
I'd seen in an art show long ago.
At the time I couldn't justify
the dough
but soon after I regretted it.
Years later I found it again
and the photographer
as a bonus.
For a short time
we created together
though these collaborations
tend to ebb.
Then I was left
with a 20 x 30
and the memory of her taste
250 shy of my next antique rifle.

My allure made sense
after our fling had flung.
A visiting uncle recognized
the setting:
a mental institution, now closed
where three of my family members
had worked in the 70s.
Its source was awkwardly confirmed
on a night of too much Pinot.
With absence comes appreciation.
Redemption's far more rare.

For a year it fought
the good fight
on my living room's best wall.
The shadow boxes
and display cases
containing local war relics
closed in like rabid Huns.
Eventually it stood out
too much for wayward guests.
I took it down;
replaced it with another
frame of dust.

Last week I walked the line
from my kitchen to my bedroom
staring at the brick
that faced me from the wall.
Twenty feet of focus
through a doorframe
sparked a thought.
I hung the photo in that spot
with two nails and a level.
It helps to have a goal in mind
even if it changes.

2.05.2018

Brand Loyalty

Whether headlights are flashed
because there's

a speed trap ahead
or an accident
or a deer in the median
or someone's forgotten them at dusk
or someone's got a burnt bulb
or someone's got their brights on
unnecessarily

there are two types of people
in this speeding world:

Those who slow down
take note
or dim

and those who are foolish
and don't.


Currently reading:
"Poetry" (October 2017).