4 poem/ideas from the coffee shops (May 2, 09)

Avidity

Bri told me to be fickle
to move on, on a whim, when
things got too close, too tough
or just boring

I spent the day getting to
know you through a book you
read once, that was the only
hint I got and I consumed it
willfully interested, excited
My desire barely waning.

My report was brief
Yours was too. Stressed and sick,
simply "I'll see you tomorrow."
Clearly though my life seemed
on hold (even though it wasn't)
Yours was not (and it wasn't).

Your City

There is a picture of a city on the wall.
Though I don't think its my city, maybe its yours.
There is a river or harbor
perhaps you ferried across one day as a child with your
father, perhaps your strolled along
the banks as a teen with your friends, each daring another
to do dumb exciting things, dangerous exciting things. Perhaps
as a young adult, your lover took you there, kissed you
there, took you there.
Your hair probably smelled like the water all damp with the wind's embrace and exuberance.
The picture is all olive and brownish gray
not quite the color of your skin and hair
but close
-and the highlights of turquoise?
They are 150 percent entirely the half second dazzle
in your eyes, the one that escapes so quickly
camouflaged in the grays of the city.


Nine

I'm in a coffee shop full of men
their heads
like mine
bent over work, books and laptop computers.
Yet eager to jerk in the direction of a
passing blond
(Her arm firmly entangled with the
man she walked by with)
Their disappointment is so settled and steady
that you can hardly see a change
as if a life time of side glances
from women walking by is all they
had ever attracted
relaxed in our despair, the similarities
are hard to find
8 hunchbacked men
and I, make nine.

Lake Street Divide

Somehow over the border
lies crime and frustration
danger, impatience
I wonder what besides the highway that passes above
paints the divide,
it couldn't be as simple as the foreign lettered signs
for despite the increase they lie on both sides.
Couldn't be a lack of homes for they are
numerous and plenty seem to be to spare
[Locked up with signs that say "Foreclosed"
I wonder which frangrance hits the heart first
the smell of disrepair and vacancy or
that of despair at being forced to leave]
Businesses seem to thrive,
community centers and parks full.
Yet every night there seems to be no moment left dull,
flashing lights bounce from wall to wall
like a discotheque minus the ball and dancing.
No sirens despite the alarm
(I assume its too much to remind them of their constant presence
without seeming to do harm)
What is this invisible wall
besides the 15 extra police cars that seem constantly on call?