You wanted to hold all of the suffering of the world
In the palm of your hand
And when you saw it would not fit,
You quietly slid some into your pockets
And beneath your pillow
And between the pages of your notebook,
Struggling to comprehend why every tear was shed.
You tried to save the drowning man,
To keep him from slipping beneath the turbulence of the sea
For the last time.
But you slipped out of happiness
The way one slips out of her daily routine.
Losing sight of the sunlight shining on the sea
And the children's laughter echoing from the shore,
The world faded to black and white.
And as the water filled your lungs,
You realized that all of that suffering was weighing you down,
And the drowning man was much farther out than you thought.
So silently you sunk, deeper and deeper,
Watching the fractured pieces of your black and white world,
Disappearing above you.

I am tired, I am worn
For this is the calm after the storm
Heart beat ceases to race
Everything seems to fall into place
Take comfort in cycles and patterns,
Separate the insignificant from what matters
History repeats itself they say,
The universe works in funny ways
So push thoughts of growing older,
Of growing colder, of forgetting to be bolder
To the back of my mind
Shelved away somewhere difficult to find
And think instead of stories that turn out okay
Think of the sound of waves and rainy days
For I am slowly breathing
Almost sleeping
Nearly dreaming
Simply being.

I think I should invent
a GPS for life -
Little dots on a screen
Showing where I've been,
With bold yellow lines
Defining safe paths
Through its strife.
Technology that'll calculate,
Then efficiently navigate
Roads blocked or doors locked.
Better to enjoy times
Spent flying along
Distances lying between
Beginning and end.

I've sworn off dreams,
Willing, instead, gray nights,
A sleep of the dead
To match the day.
That loss of control
Over thoughts that
Were once so carefully
Jailed and forgotten
Is hard to regain
As sun arises,
Consciousness reigning again.
Memories of faces, their places,
Feelings best left suppressed,
Otherwise find freedom -
Unchained to dance in
Convolutions of mind
That bend time,
Like letters folded
Bringing beginning to end,
Blurring new words,
Ink not yet dry -
As awake, at work,
In midst of a chore,
Suddenly expecting
Young lovers will be sitting,
On that stoop over there;
Night's scenes will still dance,
Steal away the days,
And life become one long
Reverie.

Working here in the alley just off Thirteenth Street
I heard echoes of "Clara" amid soul-piercing sobs -
A woman shambled over, arms glued to her sides,
Empty hands holding invisible sand bags.
Tear-streaked, wet cheeks, still crying,
Paused, wailing "Have you seen my Clara?"
I wanted to help her, really I did
So pathetically lost, sad, hopeless and desperate.
Yet I answered with truth, "No, I didn't"
Who was this woman, and Clara, at that?
Maybe a child, wandered away ages ago,
Mother, gray, tormented, still searching...  
"Then *******", she yelled, shuffling away
Toward Thirteenth Street, unconcerned
She wore just one slipper for two ashy feet.
A simple reply could've tendered new hope
Of holding dear Clara
Before death finally stole her

Then an old sod danced his odd waltz,
Legs still unsteady, he stopped here
To water the wall -
Swore he knew me - two soldiers in 'Nam -
But I was too young.
Remarked my health must be failing,
He'd never seen me so pale, suggesting
Medicine from the brown bag he held.
He offered to hold the long ladder steady
So I wouldn't fall again like I did in Saigon.
"No!", I held firm, but we commiserated
Our hard times since then;
Dayday, and Niney, our friends
Never came back, though we see them
Sometimes in this alley.
Then Matty, my brother, stumbled away
In search of lost buddies in bottles of gin.

Tiki, so skinny, ever the beauty, insisted
We go on a date right there in the alley,
Grabbing my crotch to punctuate
Her proposition, as if words weren't enough.
I offered she was quite pretty, but then
"If only I wasn't married," I lied, so she settled
For the cigarette I lit for her instead;
Wondered when work would be done-
Get to business, making used condoms,
Repaving the alley just off Thirteenth Street.

Perched high on my ladder, I could just see
Distant Broad Street, latex expressions of love
No longer sticking to treads of my boot.
Out there on that corner,
A man from The Nation selling bean pies,
Ignored me for days when I passed him by;
Asked me this morning if I'd like to try
The healthy delicacy he'd held high to God.
I felt blessed, accepted, he addressed me.
Rastafari, camped on the other side,
Still passed out free samples of Passion and Bliss,
Names he gave to incense he wished
Would transform shattered glass and trash
Into the heaven his dreams said might be.
I wore his fresh gifts, sticks behind each ear
Perfuming the stink of stale *****, used condoms
And I wondered if they walked here, too,
Through this alley just off Thirteenth Street.

Bill played piano down by the bar,
moldy old show tunes
gray-haired folks listened to,
in youth they'd played over...and over.
He once told me he was terminal,
diagnosed with months left,
and had just one request
of his own to be met
before accepting eternal rest -
peace in the kiss
of a handsome young man
who's powder blue eyes
might make him feel young again.
I thought he would weep,
and heart aching, obliged,
gratified by the smile,
sweet joy it seemed to bring him...
'till Sarah stuffed a dollar
in the tumbler of tips
he kept perched on the edge
of the piano he played -
he'd won their wager
he could get the
straight kid to kiss him.
Sarah cooked in the kitchen
and I always wondered
what sort of mother
named her son -
Sarah Vaughn -
then heard the sparrow sing
on the radio, laughing
because the one I knew
squawked like a crow
and dressed
in wigs and woman's clothes
when work was finally done.
The coincidence seemed
a delicious, karmic prank,
payment for some past-life indiscretion.
Michael studied flamboyance,
raised to high art in sweeps of his hand,
head tossed back, as if to keep pace
with legs was annoyance.
Adolescent innocence ended
when I realized the only other
guy employed there
who was straight like me -
was really a she -
chest wrapped real tight.