Bluejay

“SHIT!”

Something hit me on the head

Hard

WITHOUT warning

Grabbing my hair

Violently.

I heard wings thrashing

And shrill screaming.

He came at me again.

“SHIT! MOTHERFUCKER!”

Within seconds

He got me a second time.

I looked up to see him

Dive bombing again

Fast and determined

From a tree branch

About 15 feet up.

I didn’t have the seconds in me.

“SONUVABITCH!”

He got me a third time.

Now I was pissed

And I knew he was committed.

I grabbed a broom 

Off of the porch

And held it up in front of me

Eight feet up in the air

Like a divining shaman

Praying loudly.

“You muthafucka, cut that shit out!”

He dove straight for me

Again

Several times

But I got that broom in the way

And split him off.

He got wise 

Real fast.

He veered off sharply

Knowing that I was crayzee

And would knock the pasty white shit out of him

If he kept it up.

And

So it went like that

For a little bit.

Each of us testing

The other

Until we finally made peace

And settled things

Between us

Respectfully

And moved on

To the next chore

That needed to be done

Not bothering

Each other

At all.

Snapper

I saw him on the opposite side of the road.

He was a big shadow

In the light of the pavement

And as I got closer 

I could see that he was moving.

There was a bend just ahead

And I knew he didn’t stand a chance.

I spontaneously pulled over

While the driver behind me

Laid on the horn

Driving past.

There were no other cars.

I quickly found a stick

And moved towards him.

It was spring

And the only turtle crossing a road

Would be a male

Looking for a female.

It wouldn’t be for food

As there was plenty of that

In the stream and pond

Behind him

So I decided it would be better

To get him across

Than usher him back

As he would just be doing

The same thing all over again.

He didn’t like me at all

And he let me know it.

He arched his neck

Opening his vice jaws wide

And hissed sharply.

He was a big boy.

I played the stick in front of him

Tapping it on the ground

Then quickly moved it towards his head.

He took the bait.

He snapped at it

And got his teeth in real good.

I let him honker down

And picked him up

So frikken fast

Running him across the road

Before his claws could

Tear into my hands.

He was a BIG boy.

Just before he could comprehend

What was going on

And his talons 

Gained on my flesh

I dropped him into the grassy

Embankment

In front of my car

Parked on the other side 

Of the road

Where a female

Was waiting

Somewhere

Spared the sound

Of braking tires

And the cracking

Of an arriving lover’s shell

Ending his one great journey.

She would not experience

That kind of emptiness

As I watched him

Wood still in mouth

Move aggressively

As a turtle could

Into the protective underbrush

Of the paradise

That he so desperately sought

A mere 

Forty feet journey away.

We males

Will go to any lengths.

Even twenty feet

Of of well travelled unprotected pavement

To get what we want.

It’s dumb.

I know.

Nemesis

How do you greet

Your arch enemy

Sitting at the same bar

Ten feet from you?

Raise your glass

Smile

Shout and mouth

So even a deaf person

Knows that you are saying

“Fuck You!”

Take a sip of beer

And turn

Back to better folk

And wait 

To see what will happen.

Candyland

Candyland

She tasted like candy.

Valrhona milk chocolate

Covered in sweet n’ sour

Sugar dust.

Fresh apricot pate center.

Pretzels

And gumdrops

Wrapped around

In a blanket.

She tasted of limes

Turkish figs

Fresh ginger

And mint.

Creamy soft ganache

Spiked with cabernet

Or port brandy.

Mashed mangoes

Toasted pecans

And just-picked lavender.

Split open like a halved grapefruit

Drizzled

With local organic honey.

She went off like Pop Rocks

Mixed with Coca-Cola

On the end of my tongue.

The Apology Tour

He was a big rugged Italian motherfucker.

The nose and everything.

He got down on one knee

In front of the black chick

At the bar.

“Yo, Ricky! What the fuck are you doing?”
A friend behind him asked.

“Shut the fuck up! I’m on The Apology Tour. I’ll be right down.”

He was down on both knees now.

He looked up into her eyes.

“I need to give you a sincere apology for my behaviour the other night. I tried to express

  my love for you, which probably would’ve been better done in private than in front of

  150 people.”

Now there were only twenty.

“Please accept my apology for being such an asshole. Thank you. Thank you world for

  watching.”
He looked at all of us, then back at her.

Why are the biggest fuck-ups

The ones that we love the most

And find endearing.

I almost wanted to hug him.

But he was a big Italian motherfucker
Whose nose looked like
It took it's fair share of beatings.

Red Wings Lost

An old dude with grey hair

And a camera strapped around his neck

Strolls up to the bar

Complaining about his stomach

And what ‘they’ did

To ‘his’ Red Wings.

He’s wearing

A spiked leather collar

As well.

I ask him

If he’s a Rottweiler.

“I’m a Rottenweiler!”

He says.

“Well in that case, let me buy you a beer.”

I tell him.

“Make it a seltzer. My stomach is killing me.”

May 6, 2012 (Resting In Peace)

Quarter past six...

The first Sunday afternoon in May

Down at the river’s stoney edge

I lie sprawled on a flat rock

Poaching in the blaze

Of the falling sun’s

Flare-out.

There is no current to speak of.

The water is low

Moving gradually...

Inaudibly passing by...

Only the voice of birds

Trilling high up in the trees.

The rustle of swallows and jays

Jumping through the crooked shrubbery.

The cliff sparrows dipping the glassine surface

For supper

Content in the simplicity

That their well-made mud-pot homes

Were but a few beats of the wing away.

The heat from the sky feeling good

On their spread feathers

As they glide around in circles above.

Recognizing for a passing moment

In their small bird brains

How much more fortunate they are

Than that poor ugly dead bastard

Sprawled out all stiff on a rock below

Soon to be food for the black vultures

And flies.