Cognoscenti

Dave was in the bowels
of Grand Central Terminal
minding his own business
mostly
well after midnight
while sitting on a typewriter
one of those old, boxed numbers
that's in your grandmother's closet
when a stranger interjected.

"You've missed the last one, man.
Find a hotel."

The bearer of bad news
pushed his broom triumphantly
proud of his attention to clockwork.

Dave turned his head
and smiled politely
without an air of arrogance--
a true man of faith.

The janitor spat at a rusted rail
but missed.
A rat the size of his newborn
carried a loaf of bread
with its teeth
into a shadow
that no one would ever see.

Much to his surprise
a train backed up to the platform
quietly, with purpose
and opened its door
for long enough
for Dave to enter
lugging his typewriter
and a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc
that he'd hidden in his jacket
then pulled away
as silently as it had arrived.

The corrected authority
checked his ticking wristwatch.

Dave made it home
right on time.

Hellbent on the Horizon

Simmer down, Herodotus.
It won't be cinematic.
Falling's the best feeling
that no one wants to hear.

Living alone in a city
where art comes faster
than friends.

Thistle and shamrock.
Soapstone and ivory.
Andy Dufresne on a T-shirt.

Save the best laughs
for in person.
The Greeks killed themselves
with their tragedy.

The Second Coming

We're having at round two
when her cat gets in the way--
a literal roadblock
for its figurative cousin
attached to a sprawled recipient
as regal as a queen.
Her writhing thigh
bends my neck left
then right
in a combo Buster Douglas
must have once felt
in his prime.

Eschewing a "lack of services" case
I bob and weave and don't miss a beat
since such a crime
against such a face
would have me feeling my age again.
These failures must be dodged
when life's become
a series of medical appointments.
According to the cooking shows
I can't make scrambled eggs right
but I've still got this
if nothing else
and won't give up so easily.

Suddenly she's rising
though not from her own motion.
I look up from my task
not believing what I'm seeing.
Her face has gone blank
as she hovers over bedsheets.
I grab her ankles desperately
hellbent on completion.
The Rapture picked the worst time
to happen to this heathen.
A shock flows through my hands
and I'm forced to give release
though not the one I'd wanted
before this awkward apocalypse.

She's floated out of sight.
I scramble to the window.
It all makes sense in an instant
when I see the moon that's robbed us.
A nearby fire hydrant sprays a geyser
through a bumper.
Sirens blare in the background.
Her cat has disappeared.

Alone in the darkness
of her bedroom
I clamber for clothes.
Her alarm clock flashes midnight
though the box fan hasn't stopped.
I rub my jaw and taste her
and hope that it won't fade.
I hope the bridge is open
despite abandoned cars.
I wonder if I can make it
to my place before the fire.
I wonder if my gun safe
will be worth its weight in gold.