Wailing at reality of tear strewn eyes,

immersed in barrage of uncharted waters,

duped by shadows looming over dreams,

thoughts of disaster tottering in skids.

pinpricks of pain coursing through veins.

isolated with whispers of utter dejection,

life sealed with molten wax, dripping as

thighs become numb and paralyzed,

fleeing from pending doom of mortality,

nose diving into endless pool of mud

pleading for heartbeat to flatten spikes

confronting faces of empty promises

sagging forward - impending death prevails

But “I am fine,” I proclaim, as I spurt down path

of my past, hoping I still can find who I am.

Hearts perched on balance beams

of dripping tendrils of rain,

thundering in echoes of our past

as lightning rides on golden steeds.

Plume of my pen paints the skies

cerulean inspiration as moon

falls to his knees, yielding

to sphere of butterscotch sun.

Cracked wisps of madness explore

sky on wings letting go the fragile hush

of broken thoughts, reflecting mirrors

of life’s onslaughts in magical sky.

Windy fingertips breathe on my throat,

fire in sky strengthens heated desire

in billowed swirls of cushioned passion.

Skyward laughter of bubbles hangs

upside down from trapeze of stars.

Paper lanterns in sky of glassy light

peek through cloudy puffed windows -

azure vault of life to those who thirst.

"I won't need you to stay over to keep Mr. Whiskers company this year."

My annual free week in the penthouse of a five-star hotel vanished like fog in July. "But Aunt Ethel, Mr. Whiskers can't spend a week alone."

"Of course not," she huffed. "I've retained a detective."

"Oh but surely," I began, when the doorbell rang.

It was a fat man in his forties who offered a muscular hand. "Continental Dectective Agency. Is Miss Miller in?"

"She is, but who shall I announce?"

He gave some name. 

Aunt Ethel came to the door with Mr. Whiskers.  "This is my baby. You won't let him out of your sight starting tomorrow."

The fat man frowned. "You're the client, but usually I'd start right away."

"Oh do you think so?"

"I do," he said, "and so do you, if this job means anything."

"Excellent. You'll spend the night.  Ring the kitchen for your dinner." She left to finish packing.

The fat man smiled benignantly. "Posh digs".

"Aunt finds them satisfactory," I said stiffly.

"You'd be here all week if she hadn't called in a dectective?" he asked shrewdly.

"It's none of your concern, but yes, I'm accustomed to staying with Mr. Whiskers while Aunt Ethel goes on her cruise."

He said he was sorry.

"Not at all."

"Its not very clear to me yet," he said, "but I don't want to disrupt the household.  Please spend as much time with Mr. Whiskers as you like."

He was civil but somehow I felt the butt of a jest. I said goodbye and left.

I stayed away all week. I knew Aunt Ethel was back when she telephoned. "I'm being evicted!" she wailed.

I rushed to her hotel. The police had the block roped off. The upper floor of the hotel streamed smoke and tear gas. Paddy wagons and ambulances and fire engines crowded the curb.  The Continental Op was there. His trousers had been slashed with a knife and one arm was in a sling and he had a black eye.

"Like Hell," he told Aunt Ethel. "You said stick by your cat and I stuck by him. You didn't say keep him out of Chinatown. "

A beefy policeman asked,"This that cat?" He swore when the fat man wagged his head yes.

"I hope you're happy with the job you did," I said. 

"It got done," said the Op.

The Starbucks on Third and Iowa in Riverside has capped all the outlets in the floor. And half the wall outlets give no power. 

The Dark Side of the Force nearly triumphed--that sandal wearing poet who knows a cafe au lait is available off menu as a Misto.  Yes, I nearly complained to a barista. Fortunately the effort of mentally composing this complaint restored my full humanity.

"Um, excuse me, hi but your boss seems to have allowed professional electricians to deny us free access to power while we make a cup of coffee last three hours. Got an extension cord?"

No.

So I finished my three-dollar brew and slunk out.

Anybody else have a Starbucks that acts like a business not a social service?

And the secret to homemade au lait is to nuke milk then beat to a luxuriant foam with an egg whisk. Spoon it into coffee to taste.

Strutting a while tucked inside my soul

soul riding on ticket to new beginning

beginning month lines up with eleven siblings

siblings eager to plow through maze of days

days resound with vitality of New Year

year of reborn spirit in winds of change

change sprinting through cold cocoons

cocoons of intertwining fingers of time

time circling like merry go round

round and round – no beginning, no end

end of year holds time like playing cards

cards foretell hazy days of lusty singing

singing here come sun through clouds at last

last of tailgating feet across throes of yesterday

yesterday’s burdens hefting heavy sack

sack of sorrows thrown on burdened shoulders

shoulders casting off troubles on innocent New Year

Year past rants from portals as old sun departs

departure leaves room for new year to unfold

unfolding New Year sashays through door strutting.

I was greatly upset. But then I thought again for the fortieth time, if I were sane, I wouldn't want to kill myself. The thought alone is grounds for execution. So I got the bleach and ammonia and poured them into the bucket, and breathed deep.

Not my fault it just made a stable froth with only a whiff of chlorine gas. I have an aunt in Pennsylvania who used to teach chemistry who could possibly explain what I did, but I doubt she'll talk about it to me.

Anyhow I watched the foam seep up and onto the sidewalk.

I had a lot of feelings but I wasn't anxious anymore. 

They had a freezing drive to the outskirts of Boston, three hours in the slush and no heat. 

"What kind of rental car don't have a heater?" wondered Bob.

"Sometimes when the core goes, they save $900 on repairs just sealing off the ducts," said Tony.

"That is interesting. Too bad you don't know enough to check all the electrics before leaving the rental lot. My balls are frozen." Ray declared this. He was given to declarations.

"We should have taken the train from New York," said Bob.

"What is this? Who does our thinking? You want to run a job and then escape by train? God forbid."

There was quiet in the car. Very carefully, very neutral, Tony said, "We got ideas too."

"Holy shit, a mutiny!"

"Aw Ray, he didn't mean nothing--"

"Nobody can tell you nothing Ray!"

"Pull over. My balls are frozen, my ass is cramping, and now my head hurts."

"Let me find a Denny's, Ray. Some of these joints aren't exactly friendly."

"That is not the venue for the little chat we are about to have. Don't make me yell in a unheated car, I will forget myself."

Tony swung off the highway to a low diner-style bar. A large placard announced it to be OUR PLACE. Tony parked facing the black windows. "Inside mes amis," said Ray.

Inside the bar was dark and loud and smoky.  Bob and Tony took chairs at a table on the floor, but Ray hustled them to a window booth. "Three beers, honey," he said to a passing waitress.

"Order at the bar," she said, walking away.

Ray grunted. "Siddown and wait. Act casual." He went to the bar which was tended by a skinny geezer with a bow tie and folded shirt sleeves. "Three bottles of Bud."

"Eleven dollars," said the bartender.

"Now that, is a bargain!" said Ray.

"Eleven dollars a bottle," said the bartender. 

Ray laughed. "Then make it six bottles. My associates will pay. You guys bake a pizza pie?"

"That ain't funny," said the bartender. 

"Relax oldtimer," said Ray. "Give us a large pepperoni pizza pie. We're over by the window."

Ray slid back to the window booth. "That's better! Warm balls, hot food and cold beer. We'll soon put that drive out of memory."

Bob and Tony stared down at the table. Ray sighed. "I gotta admit, I am an asshole."

Nobody said nothing.

"But in my line of work that is a plus.

And I'm the best. I got forty banks under my belt. And here on the East coast, i figure we can do another dozen without hogging it.  After that, sure, they'll be waiting for us.  But we won't be here. Let the local yokels sweat it out.  We'll be sunning ourselves in California. 

"But what I gotta know, is are you boys with me? I can use the help on a sure thing. But make no mistake, I can find it."

Bob and Tony stared at the table. Ray laughed. "Hey, where's our beer? Look into that while I use the john. Oh, take care of the bar tab willya?"

Ray used the urinal, then walked over to the stall.  At least the place was clean. He took his time, washed his hands. He'd said what needed to be said. Now he just had to hear some bitching.

There was something wrong about the door, but Ray opened it before he realized the music was off.  By then he was through.

The house lights were up . Everyone was watching him. The front door was blocked by a big man, easily four feet across. "You oughta be a wall mount, the stupidest fuck in these United States." He pointed at the wall behind the bar. "Right there."

Ray crashed through the fire door, slipping through snow, praying the Ford would start smoothly. It did, and as they grabbed him Ray watched it roll backwards out the driveway and jerk forwards forever, so close and yet so far away...

Hourglass of life drifting away

in sputter of candlelight dwindling.

No need for dirge of mournful roses -

I won’t pick life’s flowers any more.

Wind blows me with whispers

into welcoming quilted bed of night,

dusk flickers across barren fields.

Existence remembered where life

once bloomed in broken sapphires,

planted in damp earth of desolate bones.

Drowned too many times in yesterdays,

it rains and rains and never stops.

Broken aura suspended between worlds,

warm fingers no longer touch my skin.

Sobbing voices circle the moon

as I gasp in last struggle for breath,

gravity weighing me down in rich earth.

Shadows of caskets on incoming tide

covers dark void enveloping my soul.

Fragrance whispered,

sexy contours of pillow,

scent on pillowcase,

savoring essence

on tongue.

Feeling fervent flames

scorching skin,

hearing soft sighs

of night inhaled.

Evening colors stained

deep shades as

confessions weep into wall.

I close my eyes -

never be the same

because you’re sharing

pillow with another.