Cincinnati Poems (written during our formal last weekend)

Synergy or something

I didn’t storm out

but there was thunder in my head.

I bought a pack of cigarettes,

that usually helps.

usually.

That’s why I started walking

to shoot straight

with these hungry pigeons.

There was this crinkly man

sitting against a Walgreens

who asked me for change,

said he hadn’t eaten in two days

so I shelled out a knuckle of quarters,

and gave him a fresh Turkish smoke.

I even lit it for him.

And as I was leaning over him,

tenderly holding the flame

to his shit-out-of-luck lips,

that’s when it hit me-

that’s when cliché materialized-

misery loves company.

Last call

Here I am again

wading through straw hats and jazz-

hailing the bartender,

spilling.

I’ve got last call to catch.

That firecracker with geraniums in her hair

is thirsty and wearing symptoms

of dance fever.

I’m doing a dance of my own,

holding my watery scotch over my head,

dodging sweaty shoulders.

I’ve almost made it back to Flower Girl

when I see a sight

that nearly jars the J&B from my hand-

I see you.

You’re waiting by the jukebox

for Baseball Coach to retrieve

dos tequilas

and you’re happy.

Dark side of the bed

When you’re in bed

and you can reach out

but you can’t touch her

and you can force a smile

but she can’t

and suddenly the bed

is way too big for two,

that’s worse than sleeping alone.

And it’s half past SNOOZE

when I wake up, gorged with sleep

while she's fast awake in dream land

so we clasp hands

from the dark side of the bed.