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    Bicycles

    Page 4
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      that have hardly been

      properly ridden

      Just me gently allowing

      the air to escape

      but saving that good rubber

      Just me bent and crying

      admitting the truth

      We’re not going anywhere

      Thank God

      for Monday Night

      Football

      FAME

      (for my former Football-playing student)

      When Fame comes knocking

      At your door

      You’ve got to do Fame

      And something more

      When spotlights up

      Your telephone

      You’ve got to answer

      Then go alone

      It’s good to have money

      It’s good to have friends

      But when you add Fame

      Then the trouble begins

      You’ve got to have sense

      To go with the dollars

      Know where to fence

      Value the hollers

      When you open that package

      Of fortune and Fame

      Keep your sanity

      Keep your good name

      You’ve got talent

      And good looks too

      And now you’ll need

      To change your view

      Control your family

      Control your friends

      ’Cause this is where

      Your new life begins

      As Fame comes walking

      Through that door

      Sure—do the Fame

      But have something more

      DUETS

      I don’t do duets

      Even as a kid I didn’t like

      Sharing

      I would just as soon

      Let you have it

      Than cut it in half

      I sing solo

      Because I’m not good

      With harmony

      I remember my sister

      Wanting to borrow

      Some thing

      a sweater

      skirt blouse

      whatever

      She could have it

      My tennis shoes

      Had holes in them

      Kept together

      By safety pins

      I made it cool

      To be poor

      In another age

      I would have been a vegan

      I don’t play doubles

      In tennis

      Don’t bowl with a league

      If I was a fat lady

      I alone would sing

      At the end

      And listen

      If you don’t

      Come home

      Soon

      I’ll be

      Very

      Disappointed

      BOILED BLUES

      (for the Mississippi Delta)

      I like my blues boiled with a few tears

      On the side

      I like my men a little crazy

      And my women to be good friends

      I like my sons bold

      And my daughters brave

      I am the Mississippi Delta

      I like my people black

      Nobody understands why they stayed with me

      The folks who drained this basin were as mean

      As a rattlesnake waking up at dawn

      You do not have to take this

      Seriously

      If you take it seriously

      You will sweat the magic

      You will blind the magic

      The magic will not sing

      I want mud on my breasts

      And honey on my toes

      And something really great

      Against my thighs

      Come on baby

      Come on baby come on baby

      Dance with me

      Does a nudist wear an apron

      When she cooks

      I like my water on tap

      My beans dried

      And hot sauce on my chitterlings

      If were a shower

      I could saturate your hair

      Work my way over your lips

      Across your shoulders

      Around your waist

      Through your knees

      To the tips of your toes

      And back again

      Warm wet salty

      Sweet

      But I’m a River

      Started because an ice field fell in love

      With the sun

      Started small

      You can jump me

      In Minnesota

      But I ate well and grew

      I am the Delta

      I am black

      And unafraid of the wind

      I caress the Crescent City

      I bring the blues

      This time

      I’ll take mine fried

      LOVE LUTHER

      To not love Luther

      Is to hate blue skies in summer

      Is to disdain the tears of a baby missing her mother

      Is to prefer screw top to cork

      To not love Luther

      Is to want to be bitten

      By a rabid fox

      Or chased in the night by a hungry mosquito

      Or to prefer the silence

      Of growing grass

      To the mellow voice of love

      If the Isley Brothers were the Outlaws

      Between the Sheets

      Luther was our Mountie riding

      The Rolls-Royce of our Dreams

      If some insecure Rap moguls

      Called us dirty names

      Luther elevated us

      To Princess of Passion

      They say Romeo and Casanova

      Were the sultans of love

      With a secret technique to drive

      Women crazy

      Luther knew the main ingredient

      Is just to say Stop for Love

      A man’s smile is aphrodisiac enough

      Love, Luther?

      We all do

      Just as we love Montana skies

      With all those shooting stars

      Just as we love the smell of rosemary

      We have whisked across our pillows

      Just as we love the voice that so classically told us

      Love

      Happens first

      Between the ears

      A SONG FOR YOU

      I sing for you

      Out of tune

      Off key

      Forgetting lyrics

      Remembering longing

      I perch

      On your heart

      I whisper in your ear

      Tiptoeing lightly

      Across your lashes

      I steal a kiss

      You flick

      And blink

      And flick

      Again

      I fly away

      Leaving my song

      doo wop doo wop

      doo wop doo ditty ditty wop

      FRIENDS IN LOVE

      Times change

      Jobs change

      Friends remain

      Forever

      We age

      We sage

      Friends laugh

      Together

      We sigh

      We cry

      Friends in love

      Completely

      Hands and hearts

      Tied up as one

      In this package

      Neatly

      NO TRANSLATIONS

      the smells of a pot roast from the oven

      turnips garlic onions

      potatoes celery parsnips

      tomatillo yucca root

      Jack Frost painting

      the windows

      my cold feet

      your warm back

      “It started in New Orleans

      but now it’s everywhere…” Pure Jazz on your dial

      chocolates coffee

      a good red wine

      18 degrees and falling

      high winds

      maybe a power loss

      giggles laughter

      sweatpants jeans

      I speak to you


      in the language

      of love

      no translations

      necessary

      TWIRLING

      Grits with Vermont yellow

      cheddar cheese

      White toast

      with that single pat of butter

      in the center

      A pounded pork chop

      or two

      Dandelion greens

      (I wish mustard were in season)

      Radishes gently sautéed

      in a mixture of olive oil and chardonnay

      with just a splash of balsamic vinegar

      And you

      in the center

      Twirling

      ’round and around and around

      Dance for me, Baby

      The pig feet haven’t even

      unthawed

      GOOD BOOKS

      When I grow up I want to be a book. I want to be a blue sky with white fluffy clouds and lots of pretty flowers. I want bluebirds and redbirds and mother robins flying by. Maybe a lazy kitten swatting at butterflies that light on her nose. I will tell the stories of little possums making friends with Mr. Snake. Everybody thought Mr. Snake was mean and grumpy but he had a small cut on his side and he couldn’t put a Band-Aid on it. When Zip Mouse and his friends discovered the problem they were brave and helped Mr. Snake. Grandmother will put me on her lap and read my stories until the children fall asleep dreaming peppermint dreams. They will learn to be brave.

      As I grow older I will be a bigger book. I will gather all the words and definitions for words and definitions of the defining and people will come to me when they need to know something. I will have pictures and examples and maps and formulas. I will show them seven continents; I will present riddles (Cup and saucer. Saucer and cup. Where does a hole go when it’s filled up?) I explain there are seven seas and two big oceans. There were glaciers and dinosaurs. Alexander the Great thought he had conquered the world. He didn’t even get halfway there. Earth thinks it is the only life in the universe, we haven’t been far away enough to know. I will ask questions: Why do we have wars? Why are people hungry? There will be times people will not like me. I will be banned and forbidden. But I will be brave. I will stand for light and truth.

      And when I am old I will be the oldest book. I will sit on Grandfather’s lap and tell The Greatest Story Ever Told. The children will be dressed for bed and I will sing a psalm or recite a proverb. I will try to always be a good book. And the children will dream good dreams of good people trying to do good things.

      GOT A MINUTE (TO FALL IN LOVE?)

      what I’m trying to

      make clear is:

      I’ve saved you so

      much stress and strain

      I saved time and money too

      I talked

      to your secretary

      and checked

      with your schedule

      I brought coffee

      to your assistant

      and sent flowers

      to your mom

      I keep jerky

      for your dog

      lint remover

      for your suits

      And even a neutral

      color shine

      for your shoes

      I always have

      a nail file

      and musk lotion

      for your hands

      And did you notice

      the brown leather chair

      for you to relax

      in when you stop

      by my office

      Stick ’ems

      and stop ’ems

      Clarify

      Consistent

      I am perfect

      for the job

      I save you time

      and money:

      Got a minute

      to fall

      in

      love?

      WHERE DO YOU ENTER

      Where do you enter

      A poem

      At the same place

      I enter you

      with balance

      and trust

      and a jazzy sense

      of adventure

      Painting outside

      the lines

      wearing clothes cut

      against the bias

      with spices

      among the flowers

      A poem unfolds

      like a baby bat

      testing her wings

      or a kitten taking

      her first steps

      or a good dog

      moving arthritic limbs

      toward the door

      There is sadness

      as well as loss

      in the promise

      of love

      We begin a poem

      with longing

      and end with

      responsibility

      And laugh

      all through the storms

      that are bound

      to come

      We have umbrellas

      We have boots

      We have each

      other

      If I may quote Labelle:

      Voulez-vous coucher

      Avec moi? Ce soir?

      TOURISM

      I am always a tourist

      No matter where

      I am

      At home

      Or abroad

      An American

      in Aruba

      A Black

      in Oxford

      A woman

      in Baghdad

      Alone

      cruising

      The Panama Canal

      Cold in Alaska

      Comfortable only

      when the plane

      Lands

      Never sorry

      Yet never safe

      In your arms

      or out

      THE SCENIC ROUTE

      MapQuest is

      No help there

      Are too many

      Bumpy back roads

      That they call

      The Scenic Route

      And not enough four-lanes

      To quickly come

      To conclusion

      I follow the curve

      Of your smile

      You turn flicking

      Your signal

      And I

      paying scant attention

      Go straightaway

      Past the Detour sign

      Though I am

      Drowning

      You never

      Look back

      Didn’t you notice

      I was following

      you

      TREE LINE

      We live above the tree line

      If we stand

      Tippy toe we can

      Reach into the Milky Way

      And run our fingers

      Around the rim

      Of that chocolate pot

      Others call the Black Hole

      This night is made

      For walking

      Holding your hand

      Having a crescent moon

      Laugh down on us

      There are things

      Flying around

      Even at this height

      Where it should be

      So cold only ice

      And snow grow

      Yet there is something

      Evergreen

      About this love

      That I

      Offer you

      THE ARTIST

      And so it comes

      To this

      The sun beating

      Down

      The people indifferently passing

      And we…out

      Of breath

      In a pool of salty

      Sweat

      Laughing Happy

      In each other’s

      Trust

      That once again

      We gentled the stone

      All the way down

      And will now

      Push it back up

      But we will wait

      Until the sun sets

      We will wait

      Until the stores

      Close

      We will wait

      While they put their ga
    rbage bags

      In the streets

      We will wait

      Until the dogs and rats

      Sniff their choices

      We will wait

      Until the street cleaners

      Push their brooms

      And the women offer their wares

      We will hope

      The men are kind

      We will salute

      The moon rising

      We are Sisyphus

      We write the poems

      We paint the portraits

      We sculpt the statues

      We quilt the blankets

      We set the tables

      We make the beds

      We wipe the tears

      We rock the anger

      We hold on to tomorrow

      We push the rock up

      And we gently bring it down

      We were promised

      Only a gift of light

      You keep me

      From being

      Lonely

      A FISH OUT OF WATER

      I know how

      The mermaid

      Feels

      You give up

      Your gills

      So you can’t

     


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