MIDGET KNOW THYSELF

midget know thyself
the first thing I saw
when I left my house this morning
was a midget
dressed up nicely
in her midget clothes
black slacks and a white blouse
and shiny black shoes
she stood across the street
smoking a cigarette
staring into the morning sun
for a moment I considered
how it would be
to go about life
at least a couple feet shorter
than most everybody else
to go to certain shops
to buy your things
and be the one who is obviously different
everywhere you go
but looking at her
these were not her thoughts at all
she, just like everybody else
only knows life
from their own perspective
we only know ourselves
and even the knowledge we have
about thatis very little, indeed

ANOTHER GLIMPSE OUT THE WINDOW

another glimpse out the window
in this room
I sit and grapple
with the truth
and the lies
and that wide open space
in between
that diminishes daily
until death
when either everything makes sense
or none of it ever did.
on the walls
are my maps
marked up with felt pen
all the places I’ve been
but there are so many more
left to see
then from the street
the clip clop of high heels
and here comes
a pretty girl
a petite little thing
in a pink dress
with blonde hair
and knee high boots
goddamn!
she slides down the sidewalk
like a teardrop
tearing a canyon into this moment
of my life
she doesn’t know
she’s the only woman
left in the world
but she is
in my world, anyway
and then she’s gone
around the corner
and I’m alone
staring at an empty street
an empty glass
the maps
on my walls
make me come alive again
wondering just where the hell
I’ll end up next

MORNING WOULD

morning would
sometimes you wake up
hard
you’re on your side
and so is she
facing away from you
you take her by surprise
because she likes surprises
you snap down her underwear
and work it in
it hurts her at first
but that’s okay
because she’s in for the long haul
she’s there ‘til the finish
short term pain
for long term gain
my old boss used to
recite that to me
until I skipped out
on a business trip
and quit without notice
I guess I just didn’t have it in me
but she did
and after we both finished
I got up
and fed the dog

THE RED

the red
whenever I could tear myself
away from the bars
from the streets
and all their glories
it was nice to sit at home
tipping a bottle of the red
revising a story
scratching the hair on my face
you know your time will come
so you just have to sit and wait
and do your thing
like it was the only reason
you were brought
bloody and naked
into this fallen world
it was nice to do my thing at home
because my girl had quit working
at the olds bars
where I could drink for free
all night long
sometimes I sit and wonder
how much I’ve drank for free
at all the bars around this town
from the many bartenders
I’ve befriended
over the years
certainly many thousands of dollars
but then I get to thinking
how much I have spent
how many more thousands of dollars
and I tip my bottle
congratulate myself
on another successful night in
instead of out
not that I regret a single round of drinks
they all had their place
even that round of ten Jaeger bombs
on my birthday
that was a hundred bucks
that disappeared in fifteen seconds
but I got something from it
a memory
all those glasses
twenty of them
lined up on the bar and ready to go
like watching the roulette ball
bouncing around and around
on the wheel of fate
but money comes and goes
like liquor in a glass
sometimes it’s full and spilling out
other times its empty
waiting for that magical hand of destiny
the hand of the bartender
the hand of some great chuckling god
to fill it back up again
I feel at peace right now
a man on vacation
it’s a good feeling
great, even
and I’m sure it’ll stay with me
at least until the end of this bottle

THE MORNING VOICEMAIL

the morning voicemail
on some mornings
the first thing I have to do
is listen to a previous night’s voicemail
left after I went to sleep
by a good friend of mine
whose sanity
has been questioned by everyone
from his mother
to his teachers
to his marine corps superiors
and even the FBI
a friend whose mind
has been submerged in alcohol
for as long as I’ve known him
except for a couple stints in the desert
where it was dried out and ravaged
by a war
and one stint in college
when it was dried out and ravaged
by a woman
a friend who
for whatever reason
I easily see eye to eye with
on the voicemail
he first complains about his life
how nothing ever works out
how he is a failure
a loser
and how everything is going terrible
after a while he muses
about how many good-looking girls
come out to the bars every night
wearing pretty clothes
and acting so nice
in search of guys
completely different from us.
finally he says
maybe we should change our ways
dress better
drink less
shower more
get good jobs
nice cars
find some sort of security
in our lives
and that way
we can maybe be with one
of these good-looking girls
who dresses so pretty
and acts so nice
I listen to the voicemail twice
delete it
and let out a snort
because I’m doing all right
with the women
and have a job I don’t hate
and know that in only a few hours
I will speak to this friend of mine
and he will tell me
as he often does in the daytime
after his first few beers
that he is doing well
dressing better
drinking less
showering more
and that although
not working a great job
he is employed
and has found some sort
of security in his life
and that he has
a good-looking girlfriend
who dresses so pretty
and acts so nice
and when I ask him about the voicemail
from the night before
he’ll tell me as he often does
that a lot has changed since then

BILL STEVENS

bill stevens
I met Bill Stevens on a sidewalk
on a sidewalk in Mexico
he was arguing with a senor
about the price of his tacos
claiming he’d been charged more
because he was an American
claiming he’d been ripped off
and most likely he had been
for he was like us
another gringo trying to make
our way through the dusty streets of ol’ Mexico
without getting the shit kicked out of us
or harassed by the military police
when Bill Stevens gave up his argument
and walked off swearing to his van
I said to him, “hey man, any
chance we could get a ride with you?”
Bill Stevens laughed a might laugh
and said, “of couse. where are you going?”
I told him we were heading south
and he said, “you can have a ride
as far south as I’m going
or until I die, whichever comes first, ha ha.”
we realized then that he was not like us
Bill Stevens was from upstate New York
he was in his mid fifties
and he had terminal cancer
so instead of rotting away in a hospital
he spent his last dollars on a van
and a sleeping bag
had driven southwest from New York
and on down into Mexico
“to enjoy myself until the bandidos
rob me and kill me and throw me off
a cliff to rot in the jungle.”
Bill Stevens had a very direct
way with words
and he had this certain way about him
this doomed man living out his life
as an excited child until he found death
or death found him
so we got in his van
and he drilled along down the highways
looking out at the horizon
and pointing to anything there was
fields of grass
plots of vegetables
mountain ranges or city lights
and he’d say, “JEEESSUSSS, would you
look at that? We don’t have mountains
like those up in America! look at those fields!
that must be cabbage! we don’t have
cabbage fields like that up there
in America! JEEESSUSSS!”
he drove into the night
ripping along mountain ridges
and long winding uphill drags
he kept his foot
stomped on the accelerator
and he’d make wild passes
cars, vans, tractor trailer trucks
he didn’t car what it was
as long as it was in his way
he’d just go straight around it
death-kissing passes
that made us close our eyes
and wait to see if we made it through
while he tore along
hellbent on getting to
wherever he was going
as fast as he could he would laugh
and shout to my friend Gerard
who was sitting in the front seat
“I bet you shit your pants, Gerard! I bet you just
SHIT YOUR PANTS! Ahhh ha ha ha!”
he'd roar with laughter and then say
“me? I’ve lived my life. but you, Gerard? I bet
you just SHIT YOUR PANTS!"
in the night we arrived in Puerto Vallarta
and he pulled over to the side of the main drag
I woke up and opened my eyes
to throngs of tourists and travelers
pretty girls in tiny skirts
and vendors selling just about everything
Bill Stevens looked around
for a moment and said, “all right, boys.
I think this is what you were probably
looking for. some good looking girls
and some bars to drink at. it was good
to meet you and have a good time
on your trip. this here, this isn’t for me.
this isn’t my style. too many people
and too many tourists, but you young bucks,
I’m sure you’ll do just fine here.”
we popped out onto the street
said our goodbyes to Bill Stevens
and watched his van rattle off
down the main drag
maybe to a quiet campground
or a whorehouse
or on and on through the night
or over a rocky cliff into eternity

MAKING MEN

making men
I have this pair of prescription sunglasses
plastic frames that are super glued together in the middle
where they’ve broken numerous times
they’re scratched to shit
and have little grooves carved into them
where I once attached a cord
so that I wouldn’t lose them
when swinging on a rope swing in Laos
they’re nothing special
except that they help me see better
but everywhere I go
people see me and say, “hey, nice sunglasses.
where’d you get them?”
and I laugh and tell them the truth
“Wal – Mart Vision center.”
and then I go out at night
and I wear another pair of glasses
and people say, “hey, those are really nice.”
and we go through the same rigimarole
I was sitting on a curb one night
smoking a cigarette with a guy
who I know to be keen on all the modern styles
he looked at my shoes and said
“hey, those are really nice. what brand?”
“I don’t know, but they cost me $18 at Target.”
he frowned, as though he’d been duped
then I have this old brown leather jacket
I found in the free section of my local dump
when I was in tenth grade
the thing still fits me and when I wear that out
I get all sorts of compliments about it
“hey man, nice jacket! vintage! where’d you get it?”
now, I didn’t come from poverty
and nor did I come from wealth
but I did come from frugality
and can recall my mother using duct tape
to mend the holes in the hand-me-down jackets
I used to wear in the wintertime
and from an early age
I realized that clothes do go far in man making
and that it’s better to just wear what you like
whatever you feel good and comfortable in
and that above almost everything else
not giving a shit goes a long, long way