86
(antha)2 
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
while turning green.
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 lean,
and chokes up must be half her spleen.
We stash our stuff, like squirrels on meth,
and dash before we catch her death.
85
JoshuaTree1
JoshuaTree2 
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.
84
Meditations 
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.
83
ChristmasLights 
Bright colored lights, strung joyously, shine
and cast their glow into the calm of the star-filled night
as a chill wind nips your nose and mine,
the expression of this budding winter's coming frozen bite.
This street I've often walked before
whose neighbors never miss a chance to share the season's cheer
has dressed itself in strands of Santa's festival decor
and calls to every one of us, "Happy Holidays and New Year".
82
(antha) 
New friend.
New company.
Never met before.
Not really.
But now you're right there.
Cuz I need someone to be.
Panic hits.
And you say "come walk with me".
Check in often.
"How's it going today?"
Each "good morning"
helps my fear melt away.
A bag of persimmons and crisp pickle drink.
A text message and then a knock on the door.
It's nice to have met you, if just for a blink.
It's sad to leave here and not be neighbors more.
With shining nails and a long winter coat, just like in that song,
this homemade soup you brought today has really helped me get along.
Are you touring the facility of my anxiety?
Are you picking up the slack in my need for society?
I don't know about prosperity, but
I think for sure you've brought treasured variety.
Though once my house is done and sold,
I wonder, will my stress be solved?
In just a month, as plans unfold,
will our new friendship be dissolved?
I hope not.
But also sometimes that happens.
But also I hope not.
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These poems are Avi's diary. You can email him at avi@invariablyhappy.com