Into The Subjunctive
Your place or mine?
Eyes careening in depth—
I line your profile into the divine.
Verbing strives insistent;
Efforting to the new day:
P’haps time for some laundry.
He coughs, I think, we say.
Nouns are overwrought;
Clasp this aging hand.
Child graduates and works,
Writing promises in the sand.
Present so imperfect:
Get your damn shot!
Why bleach your mask?
Nicole gives it all she’s got.
Is the past really simple?
The earthling hopes for answers,
But priest, poets, and politicians never ever speak true.
While Logic Impaired.
The World spins on axistically.
If you ask me, we’re all scared.
Pas de Deux
Thought I’d write some blasted words
Of young love turned old and grey
And so I put on tangled up in blue
Hoping the muse would come past this away
But not much passes this way anymore
And all my exes eschew my zip code
Sometimes I’ll google a lady of the night
Hoping for just a little love a la mode
But after the passion storm abates
I’m still in Alexandria alone as ever
Maybe I can render this partitioned farce
Into another couplet fierce and clever
Or at least xomething polysyllabic
Or polyphonic to hold onto an AM radio past
So loaded up the merlot into the waiting glass—
Robert Zimmerman is such a blast
And DeGeneres can teach us to love one another
Without guile or an agenda smurfed and pc’d
But then she’s from New Wawlins, fer true—
Let’s squeeze a metaphor and make her bleed
So gel your foreign tense and parle
Come to Lafayette and pas de deux
Just passion danse on a dirt pad acadien—
You know you wanna two-step; yeah you do!
I miss walking Paris
I miss Washington DC
I really miss those nice things
You used to think about me
I really like my neighbor
Even if I don’t know her name
Such things can’t be helped
There’s no one left to blame
The cat wants to meow outside
He doesn’t care much for Amelie
He just likes chasing whatever
Presents far away from me
I loved a Nordic goddess
I danced at her only wedding
We reconnected somehow on Facebook
Now I must vacuum, Jack keeps on shedding
I have seen true beauty
And felt arid with bottomless pain
I cannot understand the darkness
Kathy sees in Ashland’s daily grain train
I want to return to New Orleans
And lure the regard of a new pretty head
But I just write small lines in Austin
Watching Amelie avec a glass of Fonseca instead
Tu Et Moi
Hey! What’s cooking?
Girl, put on some pants!
I’m so so grateful
How you make can out of my can’ts.
Making birthday plans—
Who’s going out of town?
Can you tell me what’s coming up
Or how we’ll never live it down?
Tu et moi:
We still work this well-traveled path.
La dee dah—
Do you really want to do the math?
A glass or two
Usually really does the trick,
But you’re not that way
And I think I’m not that thick.
Wherever we’re going,
It’s the best being it’s homemade!
Let’s meet on the avenue;
We’ll try to find some shade.
Tu et moi:
We still walk this old graveled road.
La dee dah—
I could be your poeter a la mode.
Or a lemony doberge:
Sweet enough for everyone—
No taste ever to disparage.
Amused you’re a Muse?
There’s more on the way.
Let’s work this connection,
Tu et moi:
With sunshine or a little rain
Thank you for answering—
It’s lovely to hear you again.