mmcdli

My Plastic Surgeon’s Prosthesis

I’ll attempt to get this one up

just for you, if you’ll bear with

me just a bit.  I’m a guy who

likes the occasional slice of pie.

Just to set the record straight

(ugh!), I saw it all while thumb-

ing through the Instagram (some

might say only to be misproven

later by the literary journal

Jingle).  Our eyes are now clothes.

Please don’t let this bother you.

No, don’t cry (sigh).  Seriously,

we just thought it was funny

while we were bathing with

the hippies.  What a chic fest

up north!  With lots of chickens

scrambling to get ahead of the

game.  This wasn’t San Fran-

cisco, after all.  Nope.  But

neither was it just any neck

of the woods itching for a

menu with a reputation.  My

attempt to be clear (just this

once) was “You’re So Vain.”

mmcdl

But hearing doesn’t happen nowhere.

                                —Susan Gevirtz

The cat of making

notes on a piece of

paper is more like

dog ball.  The bowl

of lunch isn’t much.

And so on.  He says

he has good news

and bad news.  One:

he’s dancing tonight

(which is what I

wanted to do in the

first place); and Two:

he has to work to-

morrow.  Everything

was uncomfortable

for the rest of the

evening.  But still,

we’re off to The

Orgy (it’s called;

a 1-shot, all-night

circuit party, if

that helps).  I’ve

spent a lot of time

on a tire.  Once there,

we make a movie

of it.  I’m completely

ignoble, so thereafter,

a spike in the tendons

is all but certain.

Needles to say, after

that, it was curtains

for the two of us.

mmcdxlix

I Am My Own Self

Not another mantra, Martha!

Like Frank O’Hara, “Never

argue with the movies,”

George.  Gorgeous Sunday

afternoon.  Why don’t we

go out and play?  After all,

the opera doesn’t begin ’til

three and we’ve got nothing

but time on our hands. 

So he refuses to wash his

hands for several seasons.

In I come, all happy to be,

happy to be.  I was waiting

in line for a hot dog, taking

it all out on him.  “Penetra-

tion mi amor!”  Then it’s

back to his place for a nap

while he does laundry.

And what a nice nap it is!

Later that same yesterday,

I head west, feeling fresh,

happy, myself.  The breeze

as I pass Starbucks on

New Montgomery. 

The chill as I approach

the tunnel that ducks

beneath Treasure Island.

mmcdxlviii

While I Am Wondering How to Respond

I insert a Breath Saver

into my mouth.  Me,

my, I, ho...  Who’s gentle-

man enough to receive

me?  Because this is

the last time we will

ever do it.  After the

fire, the one that

transpired directly

after we officially

moved in, while

we were vacation-

ing in Paris (Ark-

ansas), several

months passed

before the bath-

room cabinet

stopped smell-

ing like a ham

sandwich.

mmcdxlvii

“Goodbye”

Of course

I’m on my

way out

to him

ASAP.

Until

late.

Angry

about

it all,

we

have

coffee

and play

videogames.

For an hour

I read a bit

of Bok and

head down-

town.  Lunch

at a restaurant

on the bridge

(and not very

good).  Back

home to an

accidental

nap.  Then

laundry.

Then a

laundry

accident.

I didn’t

shed a

single

tear.

mmcdxlvi

Nice Data

I’m too

sleepy

to utter.

But mad

excited

about

the

future.

Watching

Poseiden

on IMAX

(not an

adventure)

after receiving

a jarhead haircut.

So I take a sleeping

pill.  To no avail.

I write a note

to myself:

“Shakespeare

had his garden.”

It was horrible

and fun.  We

sat at the top

where I found

myself a bottom.

mmcdxlv

The typo wound be ‘paining.’

                           —Robert Hass

Who catches the wound

the first time around?

Not me.  People also

argued, as in “People

made arguments”

(also Hass), but

I didn’t bother

them today

(neither

the people

nor the arguments).

Instead, I attended

Sports Bar Trivia Night,

which was hallucinatory.

At least I’m more

photogenic (right now)

than I usually am.

mmcdxliv

Agoraphobia

He pilfers around for a while

and gets ready for things

as if I want to go have

dinner with him.  So

we walk downhill

to Burger King.

Right now I’m still fighting

this cold and I want to

go home.  Should I?

(But this is home,

isn’t it?)

Because tonight we

are going to a concert—

the symphony—

to hear something

called “Frankenstein.”

mmcdxliii

oh disasters      factories    memory and actors       dossiers

                                                                     —Barbara Guest

I wonder what will happen.

The importance of being notebook.

I holler at the writings of Tim Dlugos.

There is a canyon between it and me.

Or at least a Great Divide.

(I drop a shoe down into the divide

as I down two aspirin

plus “cold crunchers” from the office medicine cabinet,

so gung-ho about the break-up, etc.)

After dealing all day with it’s now cold,

the aspiration and the perspiration

simply do not add up.

ducking poling bumping sinking and swimming

and we arrive at the beach

                                                                     —Frank O’Hara

mmcdxlii

How Do You Read This?

I have,

it appears,

taken height

to a new level.

mmcdxli

Play On, Player!

“Good morning!”

said Why Is It

Called a Flea Market?,

his favorite thing,

being of course,

the game

he never

intends to

win.  He

watches me

this morning

while I mis-

place my

pocket-

watch.

Something

miraculous

happens:

two nickels

appear!

“G’morning!”

Glory dis-

appears at

dusk;

an itch

behind

my ear.