I see everything
through the prism of sex.

No woman safe.

No locale sacred.

Least of all
this hot Latina probing the produce dept.
at the corner Kroger.

I try to focus on the task at hand,
focus on selecting the best bunch of bananas
[not too green, not too ripe]
but it’s no use.

My will no match
for the king-sized zucchini in her buggy—

She’s no fool,
not by a long shot.

Why break the bank
on a pricey glass blown variety
when she can get off just as good
for $1.59 lb.

the best part of waking up is folger’s in your cup

Drinking my morning coffee,
rich aroma
and robust flavor failing to soothe.

All I can think about is
heiress Abigail
slaughtered on Polanski’s lawn.

28 stab wounds
turning her white dress

Hardly the way
to start my day—

If this keeps up
I’ll have to make the switch to
Maxwell House.

it’s a dirty job but somebody has to do it

En route to the dentist
when I see the sign…

above a red slash through
the word “porn”—

Its wielder looks like a throwback
from Haight-Ashbury in its heyday.

People are honking and pointing
and laughing at the crazy hippie
on an anti-smut campaign.

I’m not one of them
though I disagree with his message—

Freelance work for the stroke mags
will pay for today’s checkup.

will not.


Saturday finds me at the supermarket
trying to pay for my weekly supply of groceries,
trying and failing
as I draw a blank at the keypad.

Too many logins.

Too many passwords.

Too many PIN #s
overloading my brain—

Or perhaps
this is the fist sign of Alzheimer’s.

With any luck,
come Monday morning I’ll forget
my way to work.