Night Train

Sun slants its leaving light
as it slips to night
so rooster’s cry
brings cool of dawn

heat hugs
the rich moist
the poor hot
in salt wet sweat abide

runble roll of train on track
heads for crow of cock

– Smith, 7.30.2017

Life in the Smith Lane

Crickets creep between cars
in not quite night
their soothing sound attending ghost
of then and them and now
matching most of me somehow

Saw an I-90W sign saying
“Drug Activity / Impaired Driving
Call This Number”
so I did
said I was interested in some drug activity…
it didn’t go well

Roads outside this window
goin’ places doin’ things
with a lot less cussin’
and fussin’ and cheatin’ moan
that’s where I wanna roam

Late at night
we drive into deep wood
to camp way off grid
nada on GPS screen
gas near empty
next morning turn wrong way
go further into no-one-home land
fuel light starts cursing
the film Deliverance runs in my mind
so we give up
turn around
retrace tracks
finally find gas
and small town library with wifi
get go again
add new rule to list:
don’t wait to tomorrow
to refill strange territory today

Friday – $350 for muffler
Monday – $550 front wheel bearings
Nowday – pain anguish anger depression
there goes the rent money
and my marijuana

White line black top
pedal metal heavy through
go of tomorrow
awash in sorrow
and chance

– Smith, 7.18.2017

bladerunner

Balance

Day and night come and go
wet dances with dry
old seeps through new.

The dead outnumber us
feed the living
canceled checks.

I still take new day’s step
most hopeful, and yet
look for the lance.

Which coming kiss or curse
or hug or worse
will decide my stance?

– Smith, 7.15.2017

e-line

Sisyphus After All

It’s not all rock
there’s the exquisite relief of quitting time
dragging dead flesh twixt hill and home
to swallow cold food
before tepid bath and bed
and the dreamless ache of sleep
where eyes closed in dark
wake in same dark
at alarum’s croaker cry
to rise again
stack old bones on new pains
then limp to manual mountain
and hope against logic for gain

– Smith, 7.13.2017

got it locked away

Happy Sandwich

Beauty’s the butterfly of age,
age the flower of youth.

Catching up to the rat wheel
takes money, time, desire,
and I’m short all three.

Invisible patty-cakes on the Zen back of night,
or the sad middle notes of an old 50’s song?
Both fine soundtracks
for yet another Walking Monkey Production
(believe it’s the old-timers with Alzheimer’s
who’re running the show).

Still, the setting sun climbs the tree
lays along its leaves
and watches layered light
sink slow below the surface
of our 3rd floor Victorian window
and I feel eased.

Go eased, young ma’am, go eased.

– Smith, 7.11.2017

The Coffee Bin
(18 pocket notes for future poems)

Does one consume the reflections
floating atop one’s cup of black coffee?
If so I’m only drinking
at the Neon Diner from now on
get more buzz per cup

Ching ching ching goes the coffee
slow slow slow goes the will
must coffee clink before brain links

That’s a poor pour
so pour more
more caffeine
pour faster so I’ll walk faster
and won’t fall
gotta go gotta go gotta go
cant stop cant stop
or rat wheel will rust
and we’ll all fall down
like sadsack clowns
limp in limb
laying around
let’s fill my form with vroom
gimme some Zen zoom
caffeinate me over the hill
in mind/body will

3 pm
time to lose or chose
third cup of coffee or no
knowing I’ve no weed
to slow caffeine’s carom

My, my, hot milk and honey chai
stained masala beige
a dance for tongue and caffeinated mind

Thanks for the buzz
Thanks for the love

Coffee, marijuana, cat, and wife
I have a nice life

Caffeine rings my ears
buzzes brain
electric exclaim

Weak cup coffee to pry my weary lids open
this freezing so-called spring morning
with weed running out and money not enough
and wife stressed with boss-lady worries
and the cat wheezing much and vomiting often
and the politicians in a race downhill
to dumber meaner cheaper
and decent folk so amazed not to be
locked away in concentration camps
they keep their head down and fear unsaid

Ahhhh, the first sip of pre-dawn coffee
the first toke of pre-dawn grass

Black pool of night before sun
surrounds as I drink black pool
of coffee in cup

Caffeine in my brain
need in my node

Drinking coffee from Kathy’s cup
it’s another day in Paradise
in the temple of the ample

Brain fuzzy cuzza not enough coffee

The push of coffee, the pull of grass,
the swoosh and soothe all bound
around untight to firmer ground

A black cup of black coffee
raised to my white face

And if you really want to up the ante
try a cup of cowboy Costa Rican pan coffee
Fair Trade of course.

Neon Coffee, please

– Smith, 7.8.2017

Status Report 257

Some days
it’s the space between pages
the silence before sound
the tip of the tongue
just out of reach
you can almost taste it
the one that got away
in happy never after
worry worn as won

Sometimes fire plays with wood
just licks and leaves
licks and leaves
until it gets a taste
and chomps

– Smith, 7.7.2017