House stands up tall on wooden beams to scaffold someone's future dreams.
Construction crew's all wearing reds while building quarters for their beds.
Neighbors must hate the noise and mess that make it hard to decompress.
And once it's done new occupants will bring expanded opulence.
Majestically the flyer goes into the atmosphere.
He elevates his eyes and nose and softly sunlit ears.
The other riders on the plane face frontward as they soar.
Transplants transcend tele-terrain, transmigrate door to door.
And so he too, the little man, sits soundless in his seat,
aboard the plane sans plaint or plan, upon four furry feet.
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Cherry colored strands enhance and frame two widened ice-gray eyes that, alarmed, twinkle like the stars that tip two glossy-taloned hands which hold your purple latte mug while some old coughing lady dies.
We're sitting in the coffee shop trying to work near my last day to make the most of fading moments 'til we suddenly eavesdrop two scraggled friends and sickly granny chatter as she fades away.
Hack-hack-hacking noises from across the table just behind you echo evidence her syrup bottle fails to overcome whichever dire contagion this wizened woman will expire to.
You look at me, and I look back. You try to hold your breath.
And still she's there, nursing her tea.
She fills the air with germ debris
and jokes with friends, through swigs of smack,
who watch her bend from barks that wrack
her failing frame.
Like squirrels on meth,
we dash before we catch her death.
Quick trip to Joshua Tree. All expenses paid for me. In the desert, by the pool. Kinda weird, yeah? Kinda cool. Flee from winter to the heat. Toast my face and dunk my feet. Icy plunge then hot tub soak. Drinking flavored diet coke. Get some prickles in my socks. Drive a bit to hike on rocks. Textures twist to twirling eyes. Roiling rainbows hypnotize. Trek to Palm Springs in the car. Candied shrimp and tiki bar. Get up late the final day. Breakfast, hugs, then on my way.
Poems are just practicing to give my thoughts a rhythmic ring, to measure and triangulate the right words to communicate my dreams, desires, desperations by transcriptive calculations into textured explorations of each moment's fascinations.
I like to go wandering. It clears my mind for pondering. Or should I say perambulate to help me shift my mental state to open wide to new fixations like these rhyming meditations on my routine observations of my neighborhood's vibrations.
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