A NEW DAY
about 6 a.m.
after a food fight,
eyes reeking
from after hours,
the garnish of love
rumbling.
these are the details of victory:
so we celebrate,
decide eggs and a steak
drive to the store over
paved-over soil
jacked on foreign crude,
buy some beef
salt and pepper it heavy then
grill
kitchen good and filled with smoke,
drinks in hand, smile of wine, traffic going by
not a care in the world.
there is a sun on high and
guess what, it’s just
you
and me
and the urge to toast, ‘to the roasting flesh’
can’t wait to eat, yank it out of the
fire, slice off
ends against the grain once taught to do by a sot
at a campfire years ago
after a U.S. Government commodities score
at St John’s, Santa Fe, New Mexico:
that bastard used my pocketknife he later
pocketed for good
GENTRIFIED
first the lethal drummer across the hall
then the next door yoga girl with curly red hair
systematically replaced with robotic urbanites
a pain and panicky twitch inside while the doors rattle
they’re moving in!
well-oiled laughter, secret mechanical lives
and betrayal of my well-kept silences,
inevitable lonesome blues intuit
a brisk knock on early morning door,
notarized invitation for
perhaps a nice hot cup of eviction.
LOVE IS NOT ENOUGH
treading through pools
of molten lava
laundry day requiring
IQ of a thousand
mint tea steeped on the moon
Valentine postmarked
Pliocene
chocolate nail polish
sunshine leg balm
sparkly cigarette lighter
noticing a haircut
or a hard-on
it’s the little things
the alternative being
clown shoes
on a tightrope
teetering above
the barracuda tank
Jay Passer's work has
appeared in print and online since 1988. His latest chapbook, FLOWER OMELETTE
(co-authored with Misti Rainwater-Lites) is available from Lulu. He lives and
works in San Francisco, the city of his birth.
