Lunch (don’t) break

Outside the trees are green and the sky shows pity

In here a man spits bullets

Casting judgements from a loonie bin

The gravity will pop out my eyes

Only if I let him in

This is America where the poets are ignored

I have nothing to worry about

Sometimes the only weapon I have

Is to eat slowly and watch them sweat

As their ears ring from their own weight

And the clouds make shapes

And the radio supplies the tempo

Where they make paper plates

I watched today as all the short people

Labored in their shop

Miles below the tall people making money from their crops


Thousands of miles of machines

baring down their heat

As the workers tried to keep up

Thirteen hours on their feet


Until it’s time for home by bus

Weary souls put up their cleats

Rickety fridges covered in dust

Fridges bereft of bread and meat


A table balances stale cereal boxes

A cat bowl by the door

Single lightbulb shines on the clock as

A small child’s playing on the floor


In an open window a spider waits

In the quiet you hear the highway roar

A hopeful fly he meets his fate

Trapped too now in a worker’s war

Tangled slaves all American made

No exit signs on the exit doors


Downstairs someone shares a cigarette

Waking a barking neighbor’s pet

Heat lightening pauses everything

For a second it’s worth the rent


Mother flips the calendar page

it’s off by many months

no one ever moves the magnet names

They were put there by her sons

Holy gospels nnocently misspelled

And are missing half their fronts

Jesus saves it’s just as well

the thoughts are where they want


I watched today until it went away

Like the creaking of cheap beds

Tomorrow and the next year they’ll be at it all again

Until it’s over and they lie her down

Still the spiders will be fed

And the child will grow to upset the dog

And the sun will rise and set

Bridges over you

Boxes and boxes with silhouetted

driveway and malls

Everything shaped the same

I thought I would be loved by all

Just because you

Just because

“It’s like I’m talking to a wall”

Steel frames and girders

Built right through this all

I’m just a body of water

Soft skin

an animal

Never gonna hold up

It’ll be here

it’ll be still

Long after

The day that I will fall

You should have loved me

A chalk line on the wall

A statistic loved me

A shadow angel

See right through it all

You could have loved me

Long before the

The day that I was gone

My train passes through

A cemetery in the fall

My view is changing

I didn’t love you


That’s what I saw

Never trust a man

At war with himself

When nothing’s wrong

All these boxes under me

To house the saddened sprawl

We pass right over

Never really seeing us at all

By the slice

Brylcreem smiles

old school chivalry

Sexist Italian New York

Worker bee Wannabe

Eat at joes I saved you a seat

Listen to the good ole rockin oldies

Swaying to that beat

Tomorrow I’ll be gone

Red benches will remain

Black and white checkerboard wall’s refrains

Stacks of boxes

Stock photos all the same.

The stains

Red or white? Green

Thick or thin?

Watcha ah mean?

Plastic straws

Forks and knives

Fountain soda

And staying alive

Pictures of the old country

Along the American dream

Al dente not too


As long as comparisons

Don’t bemean

Together we taste better

Flip that pie into the sky

Smoke some herb’s

Let that onion make you cry

I think I’ll go for takeout

Or you prefer I wine and dine?

What is cheap for you is good for me

I’ve got the dough

if you’ve got the time



It’s a first date romance

Traditions of generations

From first kisses down to the last dance

Wednesday’s pace

I checked the schedule and punched my clock

Just like midweek’s fate does

I pushed the pedal and passed a cop

Today’s date was filed as paused

Dusty shelf a dying day

Need more than a change of pace

Rusty self I’m trying to say

we explore the stranger I face

The guitarist needed a place to sit

So the singer could shine on the stage

When the song played. You appeared with it

A dead ringer full of whine and rage

My memories always better than realities

Better the song was never played

Let the passion build up to casualties

And the road be never paved

So we can sit and enjoy what might never be

we wake to work toward graves

As the days cast their jury vote

And the Shepards wave their canes

Dusty shelf a dying day

Need more than a change of pace

Rusty self I’m trying to say

Me a whore the stranger I waste

Tuesday’s plow truck

Before I turn on the lights

I open my eyes

To bird chirps working hard in their flight

beeping trucks

Backing up

Familiar songs turning morning from night

And suddenly I’m riding along

With my dead father plowing a way

Pushing away beauty into piles don’t belong

Mountains of empty mall lots in the frey

I’d ask a question about life or classmates at school

But you’d pass me a flask full of gin

Slamming into snow paths cigarette ashes all cool

Coffee spills again and again

“If you want to chit chat go get your nails done with mom

We are men and we work and we ride”

And you’d sing along to Willie as I’d sit and be calm

Can’t roll up the window, find a seatbelt or hide

You wanted me tough till the day that you died

My alarm clock pulls be back to this present time

Alone I’m a whore in a hotel some place

Guess I’ll shave and pretend I’m ok

On with the lights and day

As I plow away

this morn’s sullen old graying face