bags packed and waiting
the car idling outside
no one left behind
a man in constant motion
running nowhere much too fast
other writing
a tanka: Michael alone
water laps the rocks
the sun hangs high in the sky
tea cold in his glass
there is sadness in his heart
past and future beyond reach
a haiku: before you
awake and asleep
my mind goes back to a time
your face before me
a tanka: for RK No.2
angel spreading light
in a world leaning to dark
she will change her world
through her personality
forever young a star shines
a wish: Nick alone
Once, when he was younger, he actually believed that he would change the world, but time and experience proved him wrong. And that was part of the reason for his leaving. He thinks he is still looking for something: a place, maybe, to fit in, to be able to kick off his shoes, perhaps get a dog again, and stare out at the sea. Any sea. At water lapping against rock, the sound of seagulls, sand under hıs feet, a clear sky overhead, and peace in his heart.
a haiku for JB
he sits there staring
at the question as if it
might answer itself
a tanka: the borderline
to live in silence
here awake and yet asleep
on the borderline
tween living and spirit world
it is a tightrope we walk
a tanka: entering the fray
I’m losing the weight
cleaning out my old system
down to fighting trim
get myself in the right place
must soon reenter the fray
Jack Pagano
he had a laugh
that came from deep in his belly
and a smile
that could light a room
he fell down my cellar stairs
drunk one New Year’s Eve
when I was playing Good Samaritan
not having been with them
but taking him in at the side door
they had nowhere else to go
Kevin said
please Lenny take Jack
and Jack wobbled
fell
no one holding him
blood coming out of his ear
the hospital
a concussion
he could have died
but he lived to work on cars
at Herman’s Garage
blocks away from my parents’ house
many years later
I found out from Herman’s grandson
that Jack was in Florida
a mechanic still
did he marry Concetta
does he still laugh from the belly
would he know what became of Kevin
my connection lost
by a few years
and several cars
I wonder some nights
I see the faces
of those I ran with
his cousin Richie giggling
Maryann’s dark eyes
Joey’s scarred face
Kevin’s muscles
Jack could have been the link
lost forever somewhere in Florida
and me with the ghosts
thousands of miles
away
Timmy Jessen
he walked ramrod straight
a coat hanger still in his shirt
a face like some cowboy hero
he looked the part
walked the walk
talked the talk
but crumbled up with one punch
from Jimmy Johnson
over territorial rights to Margarita
Johnson picked him up
by his collar and belt
and deposited him in the gutter
another broken cowboy
at the end of his fistfight
at their OK Corral
Leonard Durso 