Kitten

This adorable smoky grey kitten

Brings me her toys 

Like a puppy

Into the bed

Early morning

Every morning

While I’m drinking

Strong coffee

Waking

To play.

She’s an indoor kitten.

She doesn’t 

Even know 

That when

I walk out of 

That door

That I’m going to have 

To deal with a corporate government.

Police brutality.

Unjust wage wars.

Climate change.

Terrorism.

Factory farming.

Monsanto.

The fact that my son can’t skateboard in public spaces.

Slashing to education and the arts.

Fracking.

Mountaintop removal.

Irresponsible oil spills.

Walmarts and lobbying.

United States policing the rest of the world

Instead of taking care of it’s own.

The failing war on drugs.

Gun related killings.

The fact that we’ll kill a bear

Because it came in our backyard

Which was rightfully theirs

To begin with.

Human overpopulation.

The failure to deal with

Mental disorders

In a practical way.

Racism.

Homophobia.

Consumption.

Arrogance.

Ignorance.

Holier than yours religion.

Trash.

The 1% factor.

Really bad popular music.

And when I walk in the door...

The kitten just wants to play.

She just wants to play.

Bar Brawl

Indeed.

I still have the scar

Where you dug

The broken Natty Boh bottle

Into my abdomen.

The skin folds in upon itself

Sometimes

Blooming 

Into a painful red-centered flower

Jagged

With whiter 

Winter petals

Radiating 

When I try to lift weights

Or exercise

Or take out the garbage.

The heat inside

Burning 

From the furnace

Of the devil

As I double over.

Getting it stapled shut

That night in a city hospital

Didn’t help.

I’m convinced to this day

That it only made matters

Worse.

I had plenty of time to think about the incident

As I waited on a gurney

In the Emergency Room.

The outburst 

Was almost immediate.

I didn’t like you

And you didn’t like me.

I hit you first

With good reason

And I hit you hard.

But you still had your beer in hand

And you broke the bottle

“The Land Of Pleasant Living”

Spilling everywhere.

And then my blood.

Today

I can fold and unfold the scar

Like a parcel

Recently delivered

Being careful

Not to tear the paper

Or cut my fingers

Reaching them slowly inside

And massaging

The warm muscle

That a city hospital

Failed to repair

One Baltimore night
Long ago.

I should have let you
Hit me first.

Yodeling

I used to pay this whore

Over on 25th Street

To tie me up and yodel

Up my asshole.

She was 

Apprehensive at first,

But when she found out

That I would pay her cash

If she would take the yodeling thing

Seriously,

She got on board.

She actually got pretty good at it.

I think she actually studied.

Eventually

I became very dependent on her.

I failed to achieve an orgasm

Any other way.

She sensed my dependency

And told me that it was getting 

Way too serious for her

Even though she was making bank.

She actually 

Told me that

She didn’t think 

I would take things

So far.

I’ve tried everything since then.

Recordings,

Concerts,

Yodeling talent shows...

I fear I’m doomed.

I still ring her bell when I walk past her building.

Hoping.

But she won’t let me in.

Sorry... Not A Winner

It gets depressing

Not winning the lottery

That sense of false hope

Before I scan my tickets

Dreams and solutions

Vanish

With a red light and a bar code

Sorry

Not A Winner

The only thing

I can be sure of

Other

Than not winning

Is that when 

I walk out of here

It will be cold 

The library will be closed

As I walk past

But the bar 

Up the block

Will be open

Welcoming

Us

That keep trying

To make it another day

In the end

The whiskey

Warms our hearts 

All the same

Winners or losers