Journal Pome 9

Colorado Ave. drinkin tea
Tasting of a rusty old sewer
Sitting on Sitting Thinking Stone
Thinking of places never been to.
Strongest coffee north of Santa Fe.
Bike lock cable wedged into spokes
Like steel spaghetti: thief runs off
Into daylight yonder. Rage, I think
About, letting go -- unravelling
Bike lock. Tightening spokes to
Hand-true. A ruined cable, I ponder
Too- a saved mountain bike.
Haiku: Cap'n Crunch, walnuts,
       Gatorade and elephant
       Peanuts. Yummy. Huh?

Take a load off your mind-- your
Cerebral cortex, corpus collosum,
Cranial cavity. Your canoggin.
"They're not bald spots," says
Zac Taylor. "It's worry skin."
What a yutz.

Lady with bouffant falls like President Ford
Off a piper plane-- cologne smelling like
It cost more than my college education.
What a clutz.

Rock star tries to "pick up chick." Spandex
Shirt, leather pants, 5'4" with 5-inch heels.
You know me? I'm with that band. I'm the 
Light man, take my hand. He looks down
Her 10-year-old cleavage-less concert t-shirt.
What a putz.

Army wife tries to pick me up. Spandex shirt,
Leather skirt. 5 foot 2 blond hair with roots.
I know you. I sat at the corner with Mai Tais.
You dance real good, she says. I wasn't even
In whatever bar she's cornered. Who she thinks
I am I wondered. I look down her arm at her ring
Finger, glittering shimmeringly. Sorry, I say.
I don't date sluts.

And Sleeping Buffalo lays pensively,
Vigilant; brown and gray with white
Splotches marbled in. Hills can make
You forget what ocean would look like.
Mountains drive me nuts.



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