Excuse Me

Excuse me Miss, mister, sorry,

but I did not notice that you were, well are, a mister,

because, well I am sorry, I promise,

but I just wanted to ask if there were, well, are,

any messages for me?  I was expecting,

um, am expecting, an important phone call,

or a voice mail, or something, and I just wanted,

want, to know if you, mister sir, received it yet,

for me that is, in case that was not, is not, clear ma'm, 

Mister.  I thought, um think, that this is all 

a misunderstanding or something 

because I am trying really hard, like really, hard,

to get info...information and I 

just really want to know, if you, like, 

have anything for me?

Dining Room

It is a busy dining room tonight

Tables full with chairs all around

And a soft blue glow caresses each cheek

And the dining room remains a cacophony 

of crashes, music and outbursts...

A paradoxical dissipation of concentration

Between both the real and fantasy 

As conversations are floating and dangling 

Like chandeliers in front of each diner's eyes

But cloaked in invisibility of unsent text messages...

And as the windows reveal a painful blackness

Crashing through the glass, the patrons, unamused,

Continue to live by the soft blue glow

With hope it never dies

 

O

O, the pitter patter of your heart,
which drips softly to the floor
the stale blood, oxidized and cold,
pounding to find the rhythmic enchantment
of the Sirens' song, painful and imploring,
wistful and waning, pitter patter.

O, lonely lullaby of allure,
Rocking and cradling the ears
With harmonic lyrics and sound,
A gentle goodnight kiss
Upon the tear stained petal of a budding rose,
Soft, red, and ready to blossom

O, silently sitting in the smoky room,
To slumber in the shadows of dreams.

The Hot Dog Vendor

I had my first encounter with a homeless man, who was obviously sitting on the sidewalk for at least a week without a shave or substantial meal. I felt bad for him, so I stopped to ask if he wanted a sandwich or something. He looked at me, pale white face covered in that thick curly beard, and nodded with approval. As we walked to the nearest Subway restaurant, he stopped me at a hot dog vendor and said, ¨I want a hot dog.¨ I looked at him, and looked at the hot dog water murky and with a moist profound odor. ¨Are you sure?¨ I asked him, and he said, ¨of course I am sure.¨ I looked at him, looked at the hot dog vendor and said, ¨Two hot dogs please.¨ He gladly took out two buns and plopped the two hot dogs dripping in water into the holders and handed them to me. ¨Thank you,¨ I muttered as I paid the man with a 10 dollar bill. The homeless man looked at me, as I passed the hot dogs down to him, wide-eyed and smiling. I received my change, left a tip to get rid of the coins, and walked down the park sidewalk with him. I asked him, ¨Why did you want hot dogs?¨ He responded...

¨In all honesty I do not want these hot dogs, in fact, I hate these hot dogs. They are worse than the dirt I normally eat. But every morning I wake up, and that guy always sets up his hot dog stand, and waits. His wife calls him from the hospital every day at least 4 times, telling him the condition of their son, who has cancer. He is going through treatment now. I know I am practically starving myself every day, but I am the only one in pain. I have no family, no children of my own to worry about. The only thing I have the worry about is if my time will come tomorrow, or next week and when my body will completely shut down. I always wanted someone to worry about. I worry about his son. It gives me a reason to live. I want to see his son make it through this, to battle through this.¨

I stared at him, confused as to how this man could think this way. I questioned him about his own life. He responded...

¨I know my life is important. But if the world was only about me and my problems, I would be the only one on this earth. Yet, I am not. That is why I know he is worth my worries. I am an educated man who man bad decisions in life, and I lost everything. I would never want to see another person lose anything if I could help them with any little thing I can. You are not the first person who offered me food and I thank you. But no matter how many times they offer me pizza, a sandwich or a steak dinner, I will always go to this hot dog vendor.¨

I looked at him for one more moment and began to cry.  He looked at me, confused and said,

"Please, do not cry if not for tears of joy.  The world is a beautiful place with beautiful people in it.  Get a chance to know them and help them out, a lot of people never show how much they really want someone to talk to, someone to listen to them, someone to hug, or someone's support."

I nodded, still drowning in my own tears, and invited him for dinner, but he declined.  I pleaded that he come but he still denied my invitation.  Late for work, I still attempted one last time for him to come, but he refused.  The next day he was no longer at the spot that I met him, and yet the hot dog vendor was there as usual.  I asked him about the homeless guy that was here the other day, and he shrugged unknowing of what happened.  I was upset, but I had no idea where he could have gone or what I could do to find him again.  I looked around, lost like a puppy, and looked back at the hot dog vendor.  I smiled and looked at where the homeless used to be and said, "two please."  From that day forward, I have bought a hot dog from him every day.

Acheron

There he lies,
mangled,
a twisted wire hanger
clutching to the doorknob
of his closet home,
grinning,
like a child winning
a tiny stuffed bear
from a carnival game,
cold,
a ship sinking
iceberg both ruthless
and frozen,
as bystanders point
all aghast,
gore paving the street
a dark crimson
and my eyes tear
a cascading poison
trickling across my lips
gasping
for life like a fish
out of water
as cold metal rings
clasp my ankles
pushed to cross
the river of blood
spilled out on the road,
seeing
everything gone behind me,
a barren land
of sand and clouds.

My Apology

To all whom may have been affected;

I, the king of backhanded insults and sarcastic wordplay, apologize to you, purest of the innocents, for the way we have interacted in the past few years.  I assure you that karma, although normally not immediately effective, has taken its toll on my spirit and mind, and I wish to express my remorse.  You may be unaware but my life has been so thoroughly misdirected that even at this very moment I am relaxing my head upon a pillow of mud.

In the past, I have used my fast wit and clever persiflage to conceal that, in actuality, I desired to be your mirror image.  I hoped that in time, my body would transform into yours and that together we would be two pedals to the same bicycle.  As time continued, I realized that your interest in my life became less, and in order to become noticed my subtleties needed to become more apparent, and my brashness became scars upon my own body for the world to see.  Subsequently, now anyone else I met would ask about my scars, and to them I replied in a manner so acrimonious that even I would shudder with distaste.  And so the proverbial snowball would roll down the mountainside quicker, gaining strength solely in its massive volume, and I, the core of the progressing nightmare, was unable to combat my own destructive nature.

For this, I write this formal atoning decree, to explain that I am experiencing great anguish about all I have done to you.  I truly only wished to be as delightful and forgiving as you, but alas, now you have not spoken to me in years and I only have myself to blame for these cicatrices.  I know you have moved onward in life, and without much consideration to when I was in yours, but hopefully this is the hatchet in our limping relationship and we can continue forward so I can try to prove that I am truly aspiring to be your analogue.

My sincerest apologies and usurp my throne, please, as the poison in my ear has dried up and you are its rightful heir. 

Sic sempre tyrannis. 

The Sunrise

"The sky is so blue," he turns to his mother, who is misty-eyed staring at the clouds above her, "Mommy," he tugs on her long black skirt.  She pats him on the head, "it is very blue, bluer than the lake we go to in July."  She smiles at him, grabs his hand and starts to pull him towards the car.  He is resistant, staring up at the blue sky above him and entranced by its hue.  "Sweetie we have to go," she yanks on his arm with a little more force, nothing painful but just enough to get him to move, but he stands firm as a rock anchored to the ground.  "Mommy, why does the sky change colors when it goes dark?"  She looked at her son, five years old and curious about everything, and smiles at him.  "Well, that's because when the sun goes to sleep, he takes all the colors with him one by one."  He looks up at her and crinkles his nose, "Mommy that's not true!"   Letting out a sigh with a laugh, she admits she was making it up.  "To be honest, I'm not really sure why the sky changes colors."  She tugs on his arm again to get him to budge towards the car, and this time he weakens his stance and moves just a little.  "But mommy, the sky is now pink!"  She looked up to a pink lining painted on the horizon, and smiled at her son, "Yes, it is very pink, but we have to go home and get to sleep."  "But mommy, why do we have to sleep?"  Smiling at her son once more, she responds, "because we all need to rest, or else we will have no energy for tomorrow!"  She feigns excitement to try to trick her own son into becoming enthralled at the prospect of sleeping, but her son is still staring at the sky.  The two stand there looking up at the sky becoming darker and darker and darker.  Finally she tries her luck once more and grabs her son's arm, who acquiesces to the pull.  The hop into the car and drive back home.  

The night continues slowly, as she continually tosses and turns throughout the night.  She awakens herself, looks at her son in the other room, and walks outside to sit on the porch.  Staring up at the sky she begins to tear up once more.  The sunrise hits her eyes with streaks of pinks and oranges like they were painted by an artist's brush.  She slouches back into her chair, and looks into the sky.  Grabbing a piece of paper and pen, she scribbles;

Today my son asked me why the sky changes color

And I could not give him an answer

Because I asked that question to my husband,

Who now has passed away,

And he said it was because mother nature was jealous 

of how beautiful I was that every night 

it tries to create something more beautiful than I am.

And I know it was corny, but every time I looked at the sunset

I always smiled.

She looked up at the sky once more, and began to cry.  With tears dripping down her cheek she finishes her writing,

And he told me that every sunrise

The colors would mesh into one

That he called Annabelle, 

Because it looks just like the color 

of my eyes.

Her son tugs on her arm, "Mommy, why are you crying?"  She stares at her son's eyes, and whispers, "Because I've never seen the sunrise."

Exhaustion

I am exhausted
from trying to be everything
that I am not
Just to get the attention
from everyone
I do not want
Solely to feel something
anything
to know I am alive
because being ignored...
makes. me. so. tired.