MY DEAR JIM, LIBRARIAN

Written for my dear friend, Jim.  For 25 years we walked our neighborhood at 6 a.m. and talked about many things important and trivial.  He told me about the things he loved and those that angered him.  Twenty-five years of talks is a long time.  I have moved away and I miss those walks.

I am Volume G of Britannica

In a carton on the floor,

Storage closet 83,

Made archaic

By the internet,

But I remember sunlight

While on a shelf, my friend Jim

Picking me up, always

Thumbing through my pages

With tender, inquisitive fingers.

Our first time,

He looked up gooseberries

For a lady wearing a flowered hat.

His loving, but nervous touch

Betrayed his anxiousness to find

The answer to her inquiry.

One night he was alone

As he opened me and searched

For Gettysburg.  He spent

So much time with me;

I could tell he loved

Reading about the Civil War.

Then, there was the afternoon

He became angry with a librarian

Who stayed behind the desk and sent

A student alone in my direction.

He lectured her: take the patron

To the section, select the correct volume

And show them the page.

I felt goose bumps.

He would have stayed into old age,

Had he not also been caught in a techno-web.

He retired before his touch was cold.

Me, I am heading for a funeral pyre,

But I know Jim loved me

And I adored him

And his insatiable search

For answers.

BERMUDA BLUE

Bermuda blue,

The water shimmers

Bermuda blue.

Bottle it, the blue disappears,

A gift of heaven, lost.

Mother Nature has

No tolerance for

Childish things.

Like Mother’s bare breast

When not feeding time,

Want it,

Lust for it,

But don’t touch;

If you fuss,

She disappears

Behind white muslin.

ANOTHER ODE TO CHOCOLATE

God surely invented chocolate,
Must have been on the eighth day.
It wasn't Eve tempted Adam,
It was chocolate made him stray.

Before I’d give up chocolate,

My obsession and heart’s desire,

I’d strip down to my underwear

And walk through brimstone and fire.

So if a thug waved his gun at me,
Said, “Your chocolate or you die!”

I’d kick him where it really hurts,

Then offer him chocolate cream pie.

OYSTER BARS

Watercolor by Pat Morgan

Clams on the half shell             

Served raw,

Eviscerated crabs

Minus a claw.

Lobsters on special

With kelp slaw,

Salty drinks, but no

Fruit or straw.

Gulls feasting

Without pity,

I'll take dining

In the big city.

CONCEPTION

                                                All my life

I have celebrated

July, my birth month.

Now, I realize,

I should have reveled

In October with its potbellied

Pumpkins and chilly nights.

I imagine one evening,

My mother climbed the stairs

To her bedroom,

Shed her day clothes,

Donned a soft blue nightgown

Studied her face in the mirror, sighed

Over new lines above her brow

And slid into her side of the bed

She shared with my father.

He was not asleep

Although probably tired

From working late at the store.

Maybe simply to subdue

The feel of autumn in the air,

They came together

And were warm in each other's arms.

Something spectacular happened

That, months later, they would try to recall

What night this was.

That was my night.

I can’t conceive

A more important time,

Greater even than my birthday,

That October night

And those magnificent moments

Of parental embrace.

Fireworks and canon volley,

Tell the world.

FLEAS AND FLIES

Do fleas fly

Without saying goodbye,

Or

Do flies flee

Depending on their bravery?

I AM SEA GLASS  (Amazon.com) 

PASSOVER AND THE ELEVENTH PLAGUE

Pharaoh,

Lone survivor,

His multitudes of men,

Chariots and horses

All drowned,

Sits alone

On his gold, jeweled throne

The morning following

His defeat, robe and hair

Still damp with saltwater.

“Where is everyone?”

The chamber is deathly still.

“Where is Moses?”

The walls remain silent.

“My slaves. What’s

Happened to my slaves?”

The crickets in the corner

Do not answer.

“Where is Moses’ God?

Tell him to show his face.”

The invisible God

Does not respond.

“Wasn’t ten plagues enough?”

No answer.

“Am I to be alone till I die?”

Silence…