Guacamole

It's all going to 

Come back 

To bite you on the A**

Everything you write 

Everything you say -

So why 

I ask -

do we even talk 

At all 

Why don't we have the sense 

To see this coming -

And shut up 

But what fun 

Would that be ?

As a child 

With no one to talk to 

A blank piece of paper 

Was a friend -

Someone who 

Would listen to 

All my moanings 

And groanings 

Now, I have no excuse 

Other than 

Pure cussedness -

I have learned to read, 

To write 

And to think 

And someone 

( maybe Al) 

Invented the 

Internet . . .

So now we write 

For a cloud of nebulousness 

Who is it 

That's out there?

That's the interesting bit 

I have no idea 

Who's listening 

Who's reading 

 But still, 

Like eating chips,

I dip 

Into the 

Guacamole . . .

Gently Rocking Train

Just nothin' like a 

Glass of wine on a 

Gently rocking 

Train

Pacific surf liner -

In the dark 

And you by my side -

Muted conversation

Shuffling cards -

Solitaire 

- on the phone -

-Can't see the scary tunnel 

When it's dark outside -

Will probably hear it 

And wish 

For another glass -

Of wine 

But must maintain 

In public -

Can't be too comfortable 

Just -

On the edge of relaxing -

Thanking all the gods ---

We are not 

Driving !!!

Train and Subway to LA

Train and subway to la. 

To see a play. 

There's a time for everything

I always swore I would never go 

Beneath the streets to ride 

In the dark 

In earthquake country 

I kept my eyes closed 

Almost 

The whole way. 

Relieved there was no 

8.0

On the Richter scale . . .

A Play about Mormons

In darkest Africa 

They come through my neighborhood-

Sometimes 

But what about women ?

What about divine mother 

Don't they know her 

In her brilliant light 

What of their hearts 

And their bliss 

And the joy 

     Of the Holy Spirit 

What has that to do 

With golden plates? 

The gold would be the color 

Of the chakra that opens 

And showers us with

Droplets of 

Golden 

Shimmering 

Joy