A Limo at Last

Faces in the windows
on both sides of the street

can vouch for the manners
of the young chauffeur

as he led the old couple
to a pristine limousine

as the gossip floundered
from house to house.

They say the couple
had a son

who was ostracized
for playing ostrich

in the vestry
with the altar boys.

They say he smoked up
a warehouse worth

of cigarettes
in sun, snow, or rain

before he finally disappeared
in a closed confessional

some few days before the limo pulled up
near the old couple’s lawn

where he used to smoke and stare
from house to house.

Old Shark

Though he’s lost a fin
and smells like rot,
this salacious selachian’s
yet to be caught:

He’s fishing online
each night till late,
hoping some flounder
takes his bait.

He swims in circles,
into schools;

A predator prowling
with high tech tools.

One day the victims
will catch the old fish

and feed him
                     to the worms.

One Fell Off the Seesaw

One blasts off
with billionaires.

One walks the streets
in battered boots.

One can’t decide
which yacht to buy.

One spends the night
on a subway grate.

One snacks on Almas
chased down with Grand Cru.

One hunts for scraps
in a dumpster.

Upon the Midnight

To glide into neutral
on waxen wings,

while friends and strangers
cross the bar,

where no one weeps
beyond a week,

and nobody cares
to remember.

Waxed and Waned

And now I snuff candles
and swallow the wicks

wandering the halls
of my private Tussauds

where I drag my feet
past a figure in wax

whose eyes look alive
and a bit like mine.

A Beerhive in Bangkok

The band kicks off its set of covers—hits from the heydays of classic rock. The bar is full. The tables too. The staff hustles trays topped with dinners through the din. The barkeeps pull. The barkeeps pour. The door to the loo moves with the tide. Bumblers buzz from hop to hop. And cocktails lure like flowers.