Guayabera in Buford, GA

pristine white linen
two black market cigars
in a breast pocket

he sits at a patio table
pretends to watch
the grandchildren

wife sings
a Cuban love song
fries tostones
daughter smiles
at diners
trying to pronounce
selections

he imagines crisp
salt air on his face
the sun on his neck
doses and dreams
of Nuevitas

Overheard in a restaurant booth: "Oh for sure, I know she's a democrat. She went to France to study cooking and now she hangs little buttresses on her ones and crosses her sevens but she still has to work in the drug store."  "Yeah, well, Dude. She's got great tits."

Notes from another strange dream

Waiting for Venus

My brother hurried me
to the car
(I marveled that
he could drive again.)
The office is just down
here I motioned
but he turned left
(again I didn't comment)
He drove into a large portico
(I wondered what
his business was)
Then
it was evening and
we entered a vast moonlit room
populated by a seductive crowd
their whisperings floated around me
and I began to feel giddy and lost.
People I knew were there;
all with knowing smiles.
I asked my daughter in law
Why and she fairly sang
We are waiting for Venus
How will you know
when she comes?
I begged
   
Because I have already met her

Night Stranger

a hound harooos
somewhere in the dark

the death gray snout
and toothy sneer appear
hurries past my door
black eyes watch me as I watch them

in the shuddersome night
the hound bawls again

The field he used to plant
with corn, with melon, with beans

The field he used to plow with a mule,
where his wife's chickens scratched

The field where he found arrowheads
as a child and as a man

grows nothing but close-cut grass
attended to by his grandson

The family is indulgent - lets him keep
a small donkey, who eats the grass.

Cheer Up Sleepy Jean

How is it,
that after forty years
a song can set me crying
over a boy, the first boy,
and his lies?
How is it that though
I never loved him
there are still tears?
How is it that
the ensuing years
of love and children
with the right man
are not enough
to stop this flood?
These surprising tears
are just as hot
and plentiful today
as then and
as I splash my face
in the bathroom mirror
I see myself
young again.

smashing read, L
Keep it up!


d






.

Found Poetry:

Eventually
everything
will
happen.

tis a cruel fate, is it not, to be human
as for me, I slur and largo onto the next pathetic beat
always aware these shoes will have the better of me one day
Thank you, L
you're a gem. I should get confessional more often, perhaps
I got me some shot from Stone Mountain, and
find it easy to get lost down the hollows and lazy larceny of its lea, still
demanding things of me, impossible things.
 
d



.

As always, a pleasure to hear from you, Dax.

Carlton
is all business
Tracks the numbers
plows the profits
right back into
more lottery tickets.

Success in Life,

He said,
depends on
how effective
you are
at debugging
other people's code.

She agreed
as she tried
to remove the
fried chicken grease
from his shirt.

A male EMT rolls in a suitcase too big for an overhead bin
Plops a sweater and purse on a row of bolted-together chairs.

In a few moments, a female EMT escorts another  
shaky, disheveled, sobbing female into the room.

Plops her down next to the massive suitcase.
The EMT gets half way across the room

When the woman rushes back to her, as if snapped
back on an invisible rubber band.  She clutches desperately

To the EMT. Between the great, loud sobs, the interested
emergency room occupants learn of a suicide attempt.

After being summarily dismissed from the presence
of  a Man. The EMT extricates herself slowly,

Transferring the woman's need for touch
into sympathetic back-patting.  Escorts her again

To the bank of chairs. Once the EMT is gone,
and onlookers have returned their eyes to CNN

Or begun to reread the magazines they have already read,
the woman begins to cry again. Deep-seated sobs

Welling up from the gut, increasingly louder,
but no one is watching anymore.

A siren announces a stretcher and the attendants are
bustling, but I watch the woman  

While attention is diverted elsewhere,
she has retrieved her compact and removed

Mascara smears, powdered her nose, replaced
lipstick and resumed crying accompanied by a new tissue.

No, she's not quite done.

Her instructions, upon leaving the funeral of a nephew

When I die, you can burn me or bury me,
I don't care. You can have a viewing,
but if you do, put me in that old cotton nightie.
It's robin's egg blue with eyelet lace
and baby buttons. Lay me on my side
(you know I never sleep on my back)
and spread out my hair
with my right hand under my pillow,
my left hand on top, and under
one of my own quilts scented with lavender.
Don't you dare play
any of our music; I don't want it
ruined for you.

Oh, and don't go around saying I'm in a better place.
The best place I ever was, was next to you.

Love this last one, especially that two last lines - they're just right - M