Warm Weather Nocturne - a haiku lullabye

 Night time Sounds of spring
Cats yowl in full lordosis
Close the window. Now.

nocturne

walking home from the bus stop
the city air is thick and hot
sunset brings scant relief
all that concrete...
baking us while we sleep

i trudge through clouds of patio conversation
lost snippets and curtailed sagas
philosophies without context

Outside the Mission, clustered like schoolboys, effete and grown wild
tattered men growl stories of ambush and malaise

...he woulda stabbed me
...get a knife...
...get a bottle into you...
...I'm going to beat that motherfucker!
...well...
...you know Georgie!

broken glass voices telling broken heart tales

hey buddy have you got an extra cigarette?

some haiku

there is nothing here;
no warm familiar faces,
in winter city







i stare through the grime
of a dirty bus window.
all the world is gray.




all the birds are gone
but the noisy, raucous, gulls.
they shriek in triumph.



you pull me to you
like the full moon pulls the tide.
i am overcome.




I think i love you
more than i reasonably should.
I'm okay with that.

i saw you in the morning
huddled against the crowd and the cold
squinting into the light
breathing fog and steam

you looked straight at me, but didn't know me
didn't remember our time together.

how we sweated
how we ached
how we fought

only recognizing that my gaze lingered on your face
a little longer than was comfortable
you turned away.

on the crowded bus
we are two strangers with a history

truants and quitters
dereliction is our bond.

and i am the only one here who knows your secret.

...

your Kung Fu is weak, sir.

loose threads

it was good to see you tonight
to pull the last threads from the spool

sitting in the dark
drinking coffee gone cold

suffocating on cigarette smoke
and all the things we can't say

down at the beach where the kids smoke weed
we say our roundabout goodbyes

we build a scaffold around the elephant in the room
with small talk and light chatter

i've said none of the things i wanted to.

and then its time to go

glitter synapse post run afterglow

late night trek through the back streets and wood lots

my breath is metered in foot-fall syllables.
heart pounding
ragged smile

I'll never not love this
The streets are empty
the air is cool,
heavy with lilac, crab apple and birch pollen
trees in rut,
lusty
shouting tawdry, hymenopteric "come hithers"
their perfumes are deafening.