Ain’t Nobody

I get on a subway
And there is nobody there for me
I  go to the zoo
The animals are all terribly self-absorbed
In their cages

The bar       same deal

I cordon off an empty bed
In the middle of a night
And there is no one

I could play a game of Twister with a mannequin

I pretended it is loneliness

I want a ticker tape parade for my loneliness

Nevermind

I look out a motel window
And there’s a blizzard
Doing savage things

To a parking lot

In the end the winter is funny
For how little it will give
A fuck or even less

If you are eighty
I bet it feels really good
To drop down into a sea

Of living cats

On a dirty mattress without sheets

To be nasty     an earth goddess

I bet it feels
Even better
Than an evil fur coat

Used to feel at twenty

Which is how a lover felt

It’s okay

“You, Sir, are a goddess to all these cats”

Grrrr is replaced with miauw

Old Man at Faucet

The spigot
grows dark
becomes more
becomes more itself
more happenstance
It flows relentless
less personalized
lighter
because heeded less
the sense of cold
of the water
beginning to speak
begging
louder
cold taken apart
from water
The sense of a river
behind it
the yawn
of its source
a terror thing
as the yawn
of memory
widens the mouth
of the river
where no one
stands or looks
tonight tonight
where no body is
since they are all
downstream
In another room
another house
or apartment
It is only
a clear glass
of water
in another’s
turning hand
as the fish
in the river
young
and constantly
turning

 

ssssstory

The poor old man was not right. When we opened his fridge, we saw that it was filled beyond our wildest imaginings, if people actually had “wildest imaginings” about the insides of refrigerators. Do you get excited about a refrigerator’s guts? Some people do. But only a small number of the items in the Frigidaire were actually food. The shelves were chock-full. Ass to mouth were rocks, tools, books, chewed gum on a pink plate, tiny oil paintings of cats he had known, anything really. Anything he could fit in there he had crammed in. Old loon non-censorship universe. There was a brick. What is the expiration date of a brick, we wondered. We asked him why he felt the need to keep such items in there. He said he didn’t want his refrigerator to feel “unrealized.” He knew it existed to make things cold. And he was sympathetically “feeding it things” that it could chill. We understood that he meant in his own schizophrenic way to say that this is what some people do in relationships. They give things to the other person to freeze. Sometimes things get frozen to death. It was confusing to him. Whether the fridge was his lover or not. There was a goldfish in there frozen to death in the ice cube of a Mason jar. He also said he liked his milk to be so cold that he couldn’t even hold it. He was a very, very old man. Now the fridge is out on the concrete in front of his house. So I guess we don’t have to go inside today. Or ever. “Your refrigerator rocked,” Katy said to the air. So we smiled and left.

Chivalry

Drive past a late summer match on a blue tennis court under shade
of a park’s greenest trees. Green shadows on a tennis court
of bluest blue, where young plays old, old plays young,
before it maybe happens, a quiet game elsewhere,
in other shadows, meshes of the afternoon, not hard fought
on either side really, since it’s nothing, nobody for keeps.