Posted in Love

Last Gasp

Sullen overcast overcoat
scowling clouds cover sky, knee to collar
spiteful wind
mean spirited temperature
heads down people
no greeting, and no eye contact.
The shopping mall – compulsory only
pharmacy and clothing essential,
forlorn day
discretionary spending will not be seen with.

Smoking still prevails
outlawed, outside several years ago, by statute
behind the dumpster
stringy youth –
sharp features, neck tattoo
thin same aged woman, Cleopatra hair and bangly wrist, reaching
inside thrift shop jacket
for cigarettes –
flicks lid open,
registers contents
confirms – last one
struck match, one draught
passes to him – shakes her head –
he can have it all.




Most of my life has been spent on the bench, occasionally called into the game by extravagance or attenuation. Waiting has turned a loner into a recorder - nondescript and inconsequential, more not noticed than overlooked - the non-vantage point of children not yet considered old enough to understand. Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry is a lifetime of picking anecdotes up and not throwing them away. Stories collected like odds and ends placed in a box in the basement, the garage, the garden shed - uncertain as to what their use might be but knowing that one day there might be one.