the traveler

trains on a platform to useless destinations
pocketed tickets no good for hours to come
coins with no paper make use of imagination
like cheese with no bread, but don’t spare the wine
hazy well-traveled mind needing repair
the pistons need stay in motion, tout jour en guard
a moment’s carelessness, a closing eye
belongings meager, hosting base comforts
a sleeping bag, a camera, cell phone, some clothes
solitaire wins beating the boredom’s dominance
failing patience with beggars and gypsies
from Trier to Koblenz and onward to the East
hearty young liver a curse in lonely times
strange faces look familiar despite diverted glances
living out of a bag, a wanderer, a vagabond
those at home dream of your adventures
through postcards and letter written on rubbage
while passers-by see nothing more than a vagrant
not the child of chance, exploring the old country
a few more hours to a safely locked sleeping car
and the commonality of discomfort with fellow passengers
until then, stay sharp and pass the time wisely

“Hanging is my favorite way of dying.”

I march to the gallows
my head held high
an up-turned nose
a rebuke to the tyrrants
that escort me to fate
people badger me with scowls
pummel my spirit with debris
but the spit in my eye sustains me
so as I strut my last steps
in defiance of fear
begging not for my life
nor mercy or sorrow
the opposite in fact
my pride sapping their strength
this via dolorosa to glory
today a man dies
but his story will live on
a legend like blood from a stone
disparaging their hatred
and exacting nothing but awe
I put my own head through the noose
winking at the crowd
blowing a kiss at the executioner
I’ve killed over thirty men
and never been shot down
so here’s to the law to preserving that
gallows man hurry to do your deed
Bill Longley’s got dinner plans with Satan
and I must not be late

know when to hold ‘em

he sat at the table
the cards had better be good
there was no covering up
she knew all of his tells
in just two short years
ante by increased ante
his end of the table grew naked
chips floating fluidly like a
newly made millionaire lotto winner’s funds
into the pile in front of her
the more he invested
the more she gained
good thing the chips were only for show
in a barren room needing decor
their bed in the next room
defeated, he happily lets her celebrate
a victory in defeat, his all-in win

dreaming of you

sleep without help never comes
you are my sleepy time tea
tossing, longing for your warmth
even sunburned skin begs for your caress
the pillow is not right
nor is the bed
not for their nature but
for lack of you
as if woken from a nightmare
and fearing its repeat
my nocturnal torture continues
needing you
longing
awake

into the Mojave

hung over, dehydrated, hot and over weight
we begin our trip into the Mojave
the air conditioner has ceased to function
we finish our water supply and refill
leaving canteens in the car while we explore
the black car incubates the evil of hot
spawning heat on sunburned skin
warming water meant to refresh
detracting from the only respite
cotton mouthed and dizzy from the desert
our adventures around Joshua trees
persist in amazing each one with nuances
climbing granite boulders to breath taking vistas
angry heart beating in protest of exercise
exhausting the last viscus qualities of our blood
we begin to see spots and spin
like canine passengers, again in the car
heads protrude from window frames
begging for the treat of cool wind
to no avail