The cat staggers down
the alley & collapses,
he stares at me as he dies.
The cockroach, a sullen survivor,
sits on the toilet bowl
& looks at me with indifference,
as if I too will pass.
Seagulls flock to the eternal beach,
ants crawl up the side of the building,
worms gnaw at the earth
& a midget climbs a circus ladder,
as a fat lady sings of eternal love.
Somewhere a clock strikes noon.
These things are
played over and over... ...
but still we look to find the
way out...to defeat the Captain of Death.
Oh, that fell sergeant from the nether world
is swift in his arrest. . .
But still you seek the dream of escape. . .
The whiffling of a dream
speeding across our consciousness. . .
But the darkness of yourself
spreads across the living room floor
& your cat returns with a bird in its mouth.
Its wings spread like the crucifixation of Christ.
And still your solitary dream returns
An incandescent light
shimmering
across the darkened waters
the hours & days speeding
& your dreams on fire. . .
Until the Apeman comes
with knuckles dragging.
This very Ancient Primate
comes at last to say. . .
it is over ... ...all over
he spits out the words.
And then
there is only
the ants & the dreams.
FLORIDA TURNPIKE
Sprinting up the Florida Turnpike at
85 miles an hour heading toward
Gainesville.
The landscape sweltering in heat and
humidity. As I pass the town, I'm
thinking about all those coeds killed,
and how it must feel to be murdered.
Was it quick? Or did it last a long
time? Death.
I stare at fields speckled with
hardy pine trees. Then after a couple of
miles more, a rush of green marshland.
More swamp water, and everywhere
mosquitoes and flying critters
bunched in angry fists.
The cement on the road's very white.
Bright.
Not like L.A. at all.
And at the side of the road,
petrified by sun and humidity,
dead critters curl up in this heat.
I wonder who comes along and scrapes
them all up. Most died quick.
Splat on a bumper.
But you can't count on it.
I once saw a cat hit. In the middle of a
street. All the cars stopped. People
staring. And the cat flopping
desperately. He lived a long time.
Jerking like an epileptic. Till a fat
man in a tank top undershirt walked over
and crushed his head with a shovel.
Everybody looked away. Except me.
I drive on
thinking about different kinds of death.
I think about you.
How you said you would love me forever.
But you said you really had to have a
two story mortgage.
And a Visa Card without limit.
Wasn't that another kind of
prostitution? I had asked, and you said,
"Yes, yes, it probably was."
You smiled.
I stare at the road.
I begin counting
bodies.
After awhile I get bored,
and quit.
I pull in at a rest stop,
uncurl
myself from behind the wheel.
And I stand here
a long time,
looking
at open spaces.
RE'DOFRAM
"I see your problem," the mechanic said.
"See that tube next to your generator?"
"Uh-huh," I said, having grown more prolix
with each passing year.
"She’s your problem."
"She?"
"Yeah---the Re’dofram"
"Oh," I said, "expensive?"
He studied the cloudless sky—
then with a smile said:
"Yeah, could be. . . "
2 hours and 385.00 dollars later,
I drove onto the hot asphalt of August;
immediately I was hemmed in
by 4 breeders in SUV'S.
Turning the corner to my house,
I nearly clipped a low flying
60 year old skateboard artiste.
I checked his well being
in my rearview mirror,
he flipped me off.
As I pulled into my driveway,
COBRA PLUMBING was leaving
in a new black Mercedes stationwagon.
The plumber smiled in a familiar way as he left.
Shaula was waiting at the door.
"We had trouble with the garbage disposal."
"Oh," I said, "Expensive?"
"385.00 dollars," she said.
"Was it the Re'dofram?"
"How did you know that?"
"Oh," I said, "I know something
about mechanics."
