Ungreased skids

Glitter-less fairies
Tromping about in muddy clogs
Bleeding clumps of dried dirt
All over new carpet
Clay and sand dislodge
Snuggle down between acrylic threads

Green room knob spasmed shut
Overcome with renovations
Curtains conceal mysterious boxes
And not a warm embrace and fuzzy boa
Perpetually present folding chairs
Curious forest podium to hide behind

Nervous smiles over car hoods
Crooked hugs just before exits
Almost hand shakes
Partial recognition
Slight recollection
Missing friends, a different kind of circle

Fashion

He does his shopping
at the Humane Society Thrift store
across four lanes of traffic
just to the south
Believes--to the point
of strutting the strut--in
reduce, reuse, recycle

Re-wears gently used fibers
Blesses them with trips
and they are surprised to see
the enamel coated metal dots
of laundromat washers
and dryers again

Secretly--just between you & me
--he shops there and
relishes the opportunity to provide
daily panoramas of several generations
dabbles in decades of fashion
dribble and splash clothes
acrylic paint across
the canvas of today & tomorrow & yesterday

He has a particular passion for bridging
generation fissures
spawns understanding between
wardrobes of grandfathers and great-grandchildren
Affords 3-D displays of family harmony

He revels in the juxtaposition
of polyester disco flares and cotton-rayon blend
Wrangler snap-down shirts
emblazoned with tubular piping
tied up with flower embroidery

He does his shopping
at the Salvation Army Thrift store
a couple of blocks down
and a pair of blocks over

Breathes to bestow new life
to blanched fad remnants
Decodes fresh definitions and purpose
for 1980's day-glo
Deciphers modern inspiration
for fish net sleeves
no longer abandoned
in cardboard boxes

He re-tools fashion
from ancient cache
unearthed from rack
and stack recesses

He conceives freedom
from capitalist tyranny and oppression
at the ARC Thrift store
across from the old library
Freedom imbued in ensembles unfettered
by iron corsets of the fashion industry

Takes ideas born from artistic
neurons, but packaged and shellacked
by money magnet gloss
Dissolved all the lemming residue
Kick starts the artist's heart
embedded in the cut, design
thread iotas stitching puzzle
pieces together

He supports the local economy
by buying and wearing out
an arsenal of pants
purchased at various flea markets
polka-dotting the globe

Sharp trench coat, reminiscent of Blade
paid for in Tuba City
Phat boots ransomed for two dollars
from a pick-up parked in Sheepsprings
Hats, gloves, scarves, and wool vests
gleaned from previously harvested fields

He does his shopping at places
OTHER than the mall

What the Trash Can Says...

My molecules were chosen for this occupation
I'm not sure why
What kismet steered the cosmos
stars to swirl and converge
on a configuration that would allow
my metal atoms to be forged into
a trash can
rather than a sword, scalpel,
or even scissors.

But I am resigned to this fate
and I allow custodial personnel
to line my innards with plastic
clear or black
scented and sometimes not
thin polymer finer than silk.

Banana peels, crumpled paper, dirt
unrecycled cans, and even vomit
I contain these substances

Prevent mayhem from spiraling
into corners, clotting in crevices,
smearing open spaces
creating unsanitary conditions
and food for rats.

Things I Learned Last Week

Yesterday slipped into the--last week box
for me once my eyes shut
and consciousness was covered by
the thick down comforter of sleep

Yesterday I learned that the road
from Burnham to Huerfano forks
into paved N5 and an anonymous,
but signed--graded generous dirt road

Tuesday I learned that water drips
from ceilings in all towns
no matter what the LAT/LONG
I expect to discover that
George Bush puts buckets under drips
and has to dump 5 gallons of rain
filtered through ceiling and insulation
onto expensive manicured lawns

Monday I learned that Big Foot
left muddy prints in my yard
Yeti broke boobie-traps I set
for him/her
Sasquatch is not disturbed by fishing
line and aluminum cans

Sunday was a standard learning day
filled with heart muscles, blood
vessels, and circulation facts
Arteries carry away from heart
Veins bring to heart
I expect exes travel arteries
and everyone else traverses veins

Saturday I learned that dryers
can be abandoned almost instantaneously
at laundromats, and not all hope
is lost if the parking lot is full
with vehicles of slackers
washing filthy clothes together.

Thanks to Kimberlie W. for the inspiration for this.

Chopping Ginger

I'm not sure I did it right
It might have been wrong
Like the tomatoes
Or the mushrooms
I peeled it like a potato
Saturday mornings
Slivering brown strips
Off starch bombs
The smell is different
Better
The skin is tan
and underneath is pale yellow
Cutting ginger is less dangerous
than slicing potatoes
Ginger is cooperative
Dividing itself into smaller
and smaller minced bits
It's because of that aroma
Ginger knows that with
Each increase in surface area
The bouquet is more divine.

Disposal Fees

Missing parts, dry, cracked plastic, bent metal, torn fabric
Unsafe, uncool, unfashionable, dirty, worn
Green beans, powdered milk, fruit cocktail
Sometimes I wonder if folks just donate stuff
so they don't have to pay for disposal
Objects foisted upon us under the guise
of generosity pile up around the house
creating habitats for mice, mosquitoes, black widows
I have even less resources to dispose of it

bitter divorcee

an american indian woman enjoying indian summer
abnormally warm fall weather named after her
she basked in almost hot sunshine and a lick of coolness
--slobbered all over skin mounted receptors
earth on the downward slope

"i'm not with stupid anymore"
was thrust haphazardly on the trunk left corner
wanting to be flip, but still bearing the pain
of the loss of income, status
still screaming the horror of not being the younger
telomeric ends slowly snipped away
never to be reattached, by the sharp shears
of that old bilaghaana time

she wiped static off her thinning mane, streaked white
an american indian woman enjoying indian summer
she relished the lick of teen clothing draped over
her abnormally thin, almost anorexic flesh
--size 0, it made her better, not stupid, absolved her
of sins, woman on the downward slope.

Being Sick

Great volumes of snot clog the fine spaces in my skull
Great halls normally filled with air wave vibrations
Have now ground to a halt with bacterial gridlock

Water Fountain

The janitor was cleaning
the water fountain with the mop.
Mrs. Kavadas was walking down the hall
I expressed how gross it was that the janitor
was cleaning the water fountain with a dirty mop,
in only the way a teenager can.
Mrs. Kavadas' eyes bulged with anger
and she said, "Well what do you expect!
YOU always spit in there."

Up until that moment, and to this moment
I have never spit in a water fountain.

Most of us people don't spit in water fountains.

Watered down coffee

At least everyone has the same orange sunrise
that I have, and breathes the same polluted air
Parabolic clotheslines dangle shirts and jeans
Evaporating water, Absorbing power plant smell
While I sip watered down coffee behind glass doors