the dog and the water

the tide is high and
green today. the river sighs
and heaves her bosom,

pushing forth a kind
offering of seaweed, sticks,
and plastic bottles.

my dog runs to greet
her old friend, and graciously
accepts these fine gifts.

she dances in the
water, and on the rocks, and
kisses the river

in thanks. yet for all
her gratitude, she is but
a capricious dog

and leaves the river,
still reaching for her, without
even a 'good-bye'.

soda

he knew i wanted
root beer, though i said "surprise
me" and hoped for grape

catholic tricks

crumpling three candy
wrappers into one ball helps
you feel less guilty.

Moses

he enters the train.
he is regal, his head high.
from his neck and chin

springs forth a mighty
beard of matted coils, dense and
black. he has no shoes.

broken bags cover
his broken feet, but he walks
with Grace and Purpose.

he parts the crowd, a
sea of judgement and contempt, and
stands beside the door.

concern on High Street

we're stereotypes,
you & I. YOU : the Brooklyn-born
I-talian with

gold chains roped beneath
an open collar; and ME :
the fleshy, swollen

pregnant gal gasping
for air on a landing. you
watch me ascend the

flight of stairs, worried.
"christ's motha ! you gonna make it ?"
laughing, I nod. "yeah."

good morning, poodle.

her beard flattened, she
squints at me from across a
sun soaked room & yawns.