still waiting at the slide

in kindergarten

i frequented the park

like a well worn 

barstool.

on the slide

was bonnie, 

with storybook curls,

staring at me.

god, i wanted to

hold her hand,

so i asked her

to be my friend.

she said 

no, not now, 

but maybe 

later.

and yesterday

i received an email

from a man

i frequented

saying the same

thing.

i'm still waiting

on both

for a better 

offer.

you

i like you 

best

after i've 

had a drink

or two.

what?

you said.

yes, 

darling

it's true.

and there's only 

one more 

bottle

with 

your name 

on it.

so,

you were 

saying...

never judge a book

book shelf

short and black

twenty books

mostly bukowski

where's keats, 

thoreau, octavio?

your house

earning interest

books like

booze flow

liberally from 

my library

but hank

stays put

i need

my plonk

to be

in stock.

poor man's yoga

face down

stretched lean -

carpet the 

fragrance of

purple,

the orient, 

that house my parents rented,

this languid snake

has no bones

satori.

photo shoot

cap to skull,

crab to shell,

he acquired

entry 

alleyside.

camera to hand,

cut to paste,

he captured 

faces 

beflummoxed.

cat to muse,

cage to bird,

he drew me

in tongue -

no eraser.

child to child,

we have

a long way

to go.

click.