I gave up on women

Standing on the train platform
This morning all the regulars are here
The train pulls into the station we all
Climb aboard some shuffle some
Scramble to the seats
Making several more stops
That do the same ending thing
At Grand Central a fastening together takes place
Exiting the train
connecting to the places we go
We are the synapse of a
Higher being’s function and memory
A bad moment I suspect
Trying not to be withdrawn into
A black hole I can only imagine and
I am doing this at best for a couple of more years
Do not trust me with your light years
Unless you give me a piece of your time
And let me know more
About Shakespeare. What did you
Do with him anyway after all?
And all those X rated sonnets
He kept in his closet
And
Where are my Marlboros
And champagne that
I kept in the fridge?
Just let me know
I may stay on a few more
Than a couple of years
And help you get out of that black hole
Aimless for Beauty and Love
Germilenna
The Best Way to Treat a Husband as an Ex
Tell him he is stupid, an asshole,
mother fucker.
Then he wants to get her
to calm down.
You never have sex with me anymore
she said.
So he goes to his side of the bed
and she calls 911.
Then he goes to a messily room
upstairs five minutes later
the cops come in flashlights
in his eyes and makes him
sit in his underwear next to the bed.
Making sure he does not
Have a loaded gun
The women cop loved this
and gave him a really good blow job
with the flashlights light
raking across the carpet floor
and some reflecting off
her shiny copper badge.
Then she gave her phone number
to his wife. Do this again I’ll be right here.
Pickup Sticks (one night stand)
Hold them in a column in your hand let them drop
Pick them up one by one without
Touching or moving another stick
The players agree in advance
On how many points are required
To win the game
I suggested a million Points
But you did not think it would
Last that long
Ok half a million
Then you did not think it would
Last that long
Ok two hundred thousand points
Not that long either?
Hold them in a column
Stroking up and down on the fricking
Sticks there are 30 of them I hate asking you
Is this gratuitous?
Feels like black, yellow, blue, green
Then red spilling randomly
Ok 100,000 points it is your call
Still too long my over achieving
Ambition has become real at 20 points
Or 20 minutes
let the Sticks fall
Iris my Blue
The random heights the irises grow
Dodging the knife spike green leaves
Jutting up with danger
You cannot tell the unemployed
From the artist I just read
Bukowski said in Vacancy
The wilted blossoms
are the empty hotel rooms
White to blue
Copper sulfate blue
Or add aluminum sulfate
That is blue is my blue
Yves Klein blue
International Blue
Santa Monica blue ocean
A place to be born later
as an artist and unemployed hitch hiking
In Topanga Canyon picked
Up by the Canned Heat Milk truck
Without a girlfriend tis/’twas
That kind of blue
Deep in the throat
Of Iris in blue jeans all the way with sleek stem
Surrounded by knife blades
Slim midnight unfriendly blue
A Young Bottle of Wine
The problems are as long as my arms
Because that is what I want to grab you
With my hands attached there
My legs are a problem too
Because they have met my feet attached
To them running to you
In a vanishing one
Point perspective that
Seems to have switched to two
Point perspective
Now my finger tips
Become trip wires
Tripping my feet taking
Me to a sign post white on
Red ALTO you are
Too young for me anyway
You need to breathe for a while
Not sigh! And let me catch
My breath
Cry
I have found that I cry
Very easily in the morning
Not sure why this is when I
Do most of my writing I listened
To Jim Morrison sing The End
I cried
yesterday morning I read my bio
I cried because my life is in
A nut shell
Someone I just noticed
drew a heart on the smeared
Window of the train I am crying again
It is a heart left for me to cry over
If it wasn’t the heart it would
Have been something else
Then I realize the heart
Was not meant for me
So I cried