an easter query…

crossing
the railroad tracks
the pastor
arrived
at
an old
post-war bungalow
residence
of
miss maybel
who
in her prime
was
much sought after
by
a number
of
the town’s
most
charming
and
handsome
men
of
color
but
she had said
no
to all
saying
i’ve fought
for
women’s rights
civil rights
and
looked after
white folks’ homes
and
their children
so
i don’t
have time
or
energy
to look after
anyone else
but
myself
age
took her suitors
some
time ago
as well as
most
of
her women friends
she didn’t make it to
good friday service
so
pastor
decided to stop by
she didn’t
answer
the door
but
it was open
calling in
he thought
he heard her
so
he entered
pale
sitting
in a chair
was maybel
death
even makes
a man of god
stop and evaluate
life
but
he quickly
resumed his role
and
asked
if she
was ready
to meet
her maker
with
her last
inaudible
breath
she answered

 

a gentle reminder…

the sea
has invaded
a small corner
of
the ship’s lounge
just below
the fancy tables
staking claim
to
all onboard
a salty residue
a reminder
that
we shall
all
return to the sea
from which
we emerged from
at
the beginning
of
time

 

anything for a fix…

after
a blood pressure rising
shopping outing
to
costco
i
dropped by
aunt bea’s
to
share
a few items
i
thought
she might
enjoy
aunt bea
said
i went
there
once
but
decided not
to
return
since
i almost lost
a limb
reaching for
one of those
free samples
they
pass out
seems
the fellow
behind me
hadn’t eaten
for the last decade
and
was willing
to
kill for
a vienna sausage
he pushed me aside
like
a cruise passenger
disembarking
after
four consecutive sea days
it took
several days
for
the bruises
to heal
i still
find it strange
that
our humanity
can be
reduce
to
primal behaviors
with
such
low-level
pavlovian
stimuli

 

nothing personal…

tourist items
manufactured in china
for
the local market
replicated
indigenous art
sold in
riverbank stalls
by
part-time natives
natives
carving out
an existence
in
a one percent world
complaints
issued
by
travelers
who’ve
already
sold their collective humanity
they are
the commune
of
anesthetized day-trippers
who
outline
verbally
over
an air-conditioned lunch
the crass nature
of
indigenous commerce
commerce
that
replicates
the
world
that provided
their passage
to
this
riverside
market