do it for the bus

i had what you would call "warning track power"...this is something that has followed me throughout my entire life...i played the golden game of baseball for years, and had the success of one who had not been born with the gift of a golden arm, or of one with home run power conceived from a deal with the devil...that is to say, no success at all...i was never able to round the bases peacefully...i was never anything and still am not...and i have never experienced the joy of hitting a "ruthian" blast...i have only been a disappointment to existence, and like every ball i have launched, i fall short...it just isn't in the cards...i am what i is...another shadow on this lonely planet...

mother at day's end

where to begin on my odyssey back to jersey...should i start on the subway with the bearded loony on the other platform? i knew he was going to break...i could see it in his eyes...but what was he going to say? how was he going to flip his beautiful lid? well i soon found out, screaming to a few lovely ladies..."i know you are fucking lesbians! lesbians!" on and on into another hungover morning at delancy station...i stood and listened, praying for the train, while trying to keep all of my bodily fluids inside my fragile frame...then onto the train, sitting across from a girl crying...bawling...she, sitting there like an immovable stone...sad on the subterranean...then from penn station to the plains of jersey, a beautiful day to be alive, if not next to the garlic breath-ed gnome...probably from a breakfast of garlic knots, straight from the verdant ghettos of newark to my door...watching town after town of broken down blues flow outside the glass...watching body after body disembark with cheap flowers in their hand...to honor their dear sweet mothers, lost in what's left of the sunlight...and then after a productive day, traveling back, listening to obnoxious long-islanders..."what the fuck are you doing in jersey?" i think...talking about going to mexico and worrying about the swine flu..."jesus i hope you get it" was all i could think as the empire state rose above seacaucus' swampy hills...and soon enough i am home, roaming the crowded streets of lower, east, manhatty...safe at home...as my mother would have said years ago, "home again, home again, jiggity jog"...

last night

i am simply writing you to tell you i miss you...not in any grand sense but in a sense none the less...i don't need your appeasement, telling me you know, that it will all be alright...you are queen of the belittlers...i don't need that, or anything...i simply wanted to let you know how i feel...and how it is...for awhile you understood, and i couldn't believe it...you of all people understood...but then you fell back into reality, your reality, the general reality...i enjoyed going up north, i liked the train, i liked the people i met there...and i loved you...but the days disappear, as they always do...and i am left, waiting for a taxi, waiting on a train...waiting for you...