poem: nothing but crickets and an oasis that never gets closer

24 Aug

nothing but crickets and an oasis that never gets closer

a woman
of indeterminate age
into a ball
atop a sidewalk
on Sixth Street

her face
into a brief
of dirty hands
her body shakes
recognizable sorrow
litters the pores
of her skin

with effort
the old man
his own hands
early onset
Parkinson’s, maybe
a cynic would suggestion

no one will know
because no one has
the fucking balls
to ask

a street light change
someone honks
everybody watches
to see
something happen
to someone other
than them

deep inside
some sigh a relief
that fucker, not me

i think –
at night i have warmth
in the morning i eat
when the mood hits i bathe

Stan the Homeless Man
steps from his hideout
between dumpster
and cider block
i nicknamed him
Stan the Homeless Man
in a mirthful moment
my belly full
face shaved
my teeth more or less
in tact
Stan the Homeless Man
says, hey, can you spare a couple of bucks
and i don’t have a couple of bucks
or the ambition to get a couple of bucks

i am selfish

we are

some more than others

i wrote Obama an email
a different Cash for Clunker stimulus motivator
my suggestion, simple
trade in your Congressman and/or Woman
your Senator
State Legislators, City Council members
Governors, too
i have one
in California
perhaps you’ve heard of him

put solvent down their throats
run them around
until they seize
split my $4500 dollars
between Stan
and the old man
and woman
on Sixth Street

don’t worry about
political parties
that’s all done now
maybe you never noticed
maybe you didn’t get the letter
it’s just us
and them now
and i tire of always hearing

my daughter’s eyes
are beginning to gray
beginning to fade
the light no longer constant
she hears the whispers
around school
about school
class size
cut programs
no more science
no more art

no more humanity

hey Governor Arnold
i offered to teach
in your fucking community colleges
without compensation
i still have the documents
but they couldn’t accept it
it became
they looked at me

hey Obama
i heard Goldman Sachs
gave tithing of great splendor
your general election
and here we sit


i bought
a torch
and a gallon
of gasoline
with cash
and not credit
out fear of
data mining
and NSA web crawlers

i remember
that’s why
i’m lighting
this match


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