serenade me with a
shower of dimes
my towel is woven with
the finest receding dollars
twenty three
co-workers, and me
in an unemployment line
waiting to fill out
forms for finite receding dollars
and when the office
opens we are all ready to scream
escorted from our
jobs-thrust into unemployment lines
what the heck happened
to our economy
when the doors open we
are ready to scream
but the Pres is at the
mint printing out deflation
what the heck happened
to our morality
dot com bubble, real
estate bubble, bailout bubble
the Pres is at the mint
printing out deflation
Washington declares an
economic martial law
bubble bubble, toil and
trouble
what else is there to
lose
someone out there
declares martial law
three hundred and four
million, fifty-nine thousand, and twenty-four blackbirds
when we lose
everything, we have nothing to lose
serenade me with a
shower of dimes
________________
He is disguised
with a thickness
ofdesert camouflage
and a Kevlar vest that
wraps
its black fibered arms
around the body
with a firm grip.
Sun and dry wind
sandpaper his cheeks
with invisible
brushstrokes
blending all into a
mute, dusty canvas
that passes for a face.
Eyes are trained and
strained by desert hours.
Fingers are molded
into the steel handles
of weapons.
All is clamped into
place
by clipped commands
shouted daily.
Then, on a day off,
in shorts and tennis
shoes,
he joins a ragged batch
of kids playing soccer.
Language dissolves like
sweat
into the hardened field
as he sheds anxieties
to head to childhood again.
Stamina and clever ball
control translate
without a sound
uttered.
"Don't you think; you
need a haircut, Son?" My Mom asked.
"NO! I don't need
a hair cut!" I answered her fast.
"Let me give you a quick
trim...before you go.
Take a look in this
mirror and then let me know." She said.
"No ma'am, my bhangs
are not too long." I replied.
They are exactly how I
like them. See, they flip with a comb!
Whenever I ride my
bike, they fly like the wind.
They are just the right
length. They stop at my chin.
When I walk to school;
they blow in the breeze.
They even tickle my
nose and make me sneeze-Ah 'Choo!
I like my bhangs,
just as they are.
Just look what they do,
when I ride in a car.
I love the way my
bhangs, flap in the breeze!
I plan to let them
grow...down to my knees.
I like it when my
Grandpop, takes me for a spin.
Speed Up Grandpop...So
I Can Do It Again!
I like the way my
bhangs hang down pass my nose.
Maybe they will grow,
down to my toes!
Eating my supper can be
rather tricky.
Last night I ate too
fast, and my bhangs got all sticky.
When I'm watching
cartoons, I can see just fine.
I'm use to peeking
through, these bhangs of mine.
Aren't those bhangs
in the way, of the story you're reading? My Mom asked.
"Just let me cut them,
Son! I'm begging and pleading."
But I've had these
bhangs, for as long as I can remember. I explained.
And you promised not
to cut them... Until, maybe next December!
"Alright Son, I'll
leave you with your bhangs," my Mom said.
"This time you prevail.
But first thing tomorrow morning...
We have got to do something about your- Tail!"
