In the Poconos

Janice was in the throes

of the latest fiascos

brought on by the jingos

expressed in  current tangos

being taught ex-officio

by malignant balding pros.

 

They were the making of chinos

by the last name of Maraschino

living in a place not called San Bernardino

but somewhere in Italy named after the bambino

who later constructed hotels and hospices in Reno

and funded studies in AIDS and acids amino

Janice just needed to escape from the lab in Encino.

 

She lived on plantains and burritos

met one of the pantsmakers, Benito

unhappiness for both was now finito

although they had to live incognito

for they called Dick Cheney gordito

they moved to a town near Quito

they finally perfected the quintescent mojito.

 

**************************

 

 

 

Even though the dew sweetly

covers both my cars,

the pigeon shit on both

wants me to commit birdicide

without impunity

with relish.

 

Even though I smile

at those people with

'job power' over me,

I would sometimes

extend to them

some type

of bird

to keep my soul happy.

 

Even though

I am loyal

to a point,

it will never be more

than what I can live with

eternally.

 

Even though

I like my species

I will dissuade it

from acting like

scavenger corpse-dependent birds

especially for personal or national

or ethnic/religious and

monetary gain.

 

 

******************************

 

 

The man in the vested suit

was a different you

but just enough

for my love to glom onto him

from you, a long

way off in the temper pique

of your own fallout.

 

Mundane tigers and wolves

were that person's forte

not yours

with fifes of travertine and tartan

notaries of ending day telenovelas

and Uzbekistani umbrellas

the eartag of your sibilants.

 

Add the wingtip shoes,

pinched waist

and tight neckties

and whoever

I pretend to be you

may work

nearly so

but not

 

****************

 

 

Languorous Seduction

 

No longer majordomic

we have let Maundy Thursday pass us by

uncared for again,

we still hope the street lights will

go out individually

not-unisoned

for once.

 

It really does not matter if it does

or don't

but, yes,

oh yes, yes,

yes,

it would be nice.

 

 

Tampico is a lovely place

this time of year

we dwell in its caprice

and anticipate everything

to come to us

at its own particular pace

 

time will exist

with or without us.

 

 

The men in three piece suits

tarnishing badges

scuffing wingtips

wait for us back home

the state will feel better

when we come back

they can hold out

so can we

 

the interlinking is always there

never goes away

since that is so

hurry is foreign to all concerned.

 

 

Mike Cluff