Nights Were Brighter Then
On a hillside
We pass cheap wine
Yellowed grass
Dew soddened jeans
We trace stars slow path
In September dark
Two beauties laugh
Sweetened wine voices echo
Teen beings
Cast lighthouse beacons
Sweeps my shipwreck
We never went back
Bodies, minds not the same
Under star crawl
We fixate on given light
Novas long dead
Best you can do
Press the colored leaves
Savor aged wine
Dog Days
Murphy squats at sunrise
Sniffs the breeze while urinating
Checks to see if quail are about
He chases but never catches
The air is tolerable
Sun not yet full upon the yard
Time to dig a hole
Saliva mud cakes his nose
He rests in his trampled bed of aloe
His golden cream coat
Collects small twigs, dirt, leaves
As he rolls on his back
Tongue lolls, eyes wild
Stops, sits up, furrows his brow
Worries the heat
Will not end
But the mourning dove coos
As the garbage truck roars
Plucks with its mechanical claw
Delicacies he would tear through
Given half the chance
Bolts to the shade of the patio
Dirty nails tap the slider door
Lopes down the hallway
Slums in dark quiet
As the air conditioner hums
Smelling of worms, earth and sweat
He groans, closes his eyes
Despite summer, it’s a good life
And he knows it
One New York Summer
I coached a girls’ softball team
After games in their local dive
A player’s brother bartended
Passed free pitchers of beer
Hard drinking
First generation girls
Didn’t know when to stop
Kamikaze shots and laughter
Brenda drank too much
Leaned her head on my shoulder
We held hands, stole a kiss
Games on Wednesdays
Practice on Mondays
I caught batting practice
Gina wore tight shorts
Reveled in her exposed cheeks
It was a hot summer
Heavy air nights
I would drive home buzzed
My hand out the window
Each night sift through my fingers
My lake cottage damp
I would lie in bed
Listen to crickets and peepers,
Raccoons ferocious sex
Too hot to sleep
But it was alright
Get through work the next day
Read the paper on the couch
Until I nodded off
Young and thoughtless days
Reading news to sleep
To casually toss in trash
Like others discard on park benches
Headlines and obituaries blow away
In the girl’s hometown
Only the homeless kept yesterdays
Folio sheets on sidewalk beds
Editorials under thread bare clothes
Insulation for the waning days