5-0 Radio

Sitting in a car after dark
on the side of the highway
listening to a police scanner
as a lone truck passes by
and nothing’s happening
the streets are exaggerated
the gangs are asleep
the world is not an exciting
place to be
the voices on the radio
slip in and out of protocol
reporting every fifteen minutes
to remind themselves they have
a job
pacing up and down the streets
like cabbies without fares
without so much as a distraction
and nothing going on
but who am I to judge?
I’m sitting in a car after dark
on the side of the highway
listening to a police scanner

Fireworks

When I was a teenager
I watched a house burn down
across the street
on the Fourth of July
and as I watched, I wasn’t
curious
or morbidly fascinated
or even slightly empathetic
Instead, there was this feeling
of euphoria
like nothing mattered
and God was in the fire
and everything was right with
the world
Nobody cared about the fireworks
they stood out on the street
taking videos and pictures
and cheering for the firemen
while I laid down in the grass
and watched the stars shatter
and fall
into the glow of the warmest
summer air
and as the water rained down
and purified the earth
I thought how beautiful the night
turned out to be

The Numbers

She’s sitting on the floor
running numbers through her head
I’m on the couch with a novel
and a beery
She’s mumbling to herself
about the order of operations
common denominators
decimals and fractions
and I’m a distraction
running my hand through her hair
She’s moving too quick
with her hands around a notebook
and the moment isn’t taking
any chances
It’s screaming past us in a blur
of missed opportunities
electric cars and formulas
skydivers and percentages
sleeping dragons, microwaves,
and Mayan calendars
I’m scanning the pages
without reading the words
she’s throwing her pen on the table
we’re lost in the equation
there’s no reason to worry
I’ll let her figure it out

Rabbit

A dull thud
that’s all there was
she ran in a circle
then collapsed on the ground
just another rabbit hit by a car
I was on the sidewalk
and stepped out into traffic
stopping the next car from
finishing her off
she was terrified, but breathing
I couldn’t tell how bad it was
I thought for a moment that she
might still have a chance
so I scooped up her tiny body
and held her in my hands
as the drivers laid on their horns
her leg twisted around backwards
her left eye and ear were gone
and blood poured out of her mouth
onto the ground
she was shaking as I laid her
on a soft spot in the grass
and sat with her until she
passed away
now she’s a sad memory
that I can’t shake
and it’s strange to think
if I walked by ten minutes later
she would have been
just another rodent dead on the road

Baby Birds

When trying to get into the mind
of a poet
it helps to know the writing
process
it’s something people like to know
so listen up
I’m sitting at a desk with
cluttered papers
a globe and chesspiece paperweights
typing on an antique typewriter
dressed like an eighteenth-century
Englishman
actually, I’m sitting on a stool
in an Irish pub
getting drunk on Maker’s Mark
scribbling on a bar napkin
and stealing books of matches
there’s a hobo bumming quarters
and the World Series is on
except I’m in a secluded cabin
with a gawky talking bird
in a velvet rope and slippers
smoking a pipe on a bearskin rug
with a stack of leather-bound
notebooks
fuck, it doesn’t matter
pick whichever one you like
when really, I’m naked as a
newborn
drinking bottled water
and typing on a cell phone
while a cat drools on my arm
suck on that worm, baby birds

Cleopatra

Poised and motionless
mysterious and calm
she is invisible
to the outside world
she demands attention
with a voice
both powerful and small
demanding to be noticed,
to be loved
she never kisses on the lips
she never shares her bed
and she’s always out of reach
just by a little
she’ll stare into your eyes
make you forget who you are
and she’s as dangerous as you
want her to be