Norman Rockwell Streets

One by one their numbers swelled, 
As they entered the Country Buffet.
Old black toupees on white hair,
Tossed their privacy away.

The brotherhood of passé men,

Laughed while stacking drumstick bones…
Reminiscing about the “Better days”
Finishing with ice cream cones.

The strange men were a mystery

Diners stared; speaking in a hush;

They didn’t see the 80’s car doors,

With magnet signs saying, “Fuller Brush”.

Those black toupees mapped suburbs,

While traveling door to door,
A free brush was their handshake,
And those old cars were their store.

Lenses

With lenses and technology,

We can see ourselves from space…

Sadly we lose our vision,

When meeting face to face.

We all are peaceful poets

Seen as a planetary star;

Losing our sight in public

Forgetting the miracles, we are.

Each and every one of us

Needs to look through the telescope…

To see alone we are but one,

In an orbit without hope.

Humanity Fail

Lab rats when stimulated,

Will f# *k themselves to death…

Human’s love for oil profits

Makes us gasp till our last breath.

What a time for science deniers,

Whose god frees them all from sin…

They’ll immolate unprotected,

Life gives back what we put in.

The Other Side of the Mountains

 Dedicated to Rusty, d. January 22, 2007

I’ve lived for years by the ocean,

In a house where I chose to hide…

Where beautiful views of the mountains,

Only showed their westerly side.

I headed southeast into Oregon,

Passed Hard Luck and Dead Man Hill;

Traveled the Old Emigrant Trail,

Where a cabin or two stand still.

The sounds of the Oregon Trail,

Are no longer the wagon train song,

But cowboys singing for Jesus;

Trucker caravans three miles long.

Ontario is the end of Lewis and Clark,

Satisfying the white man’s yearn.

With or without Sakajawaya,

I would rather make a u-turn.

Today I crossed the Snake River,

Traversed miles of sage brush and fennel,

My motel has a modern Jacuzzi,

But Rusty, we’re both in a kennel. 

Footnote:   I took this trip to Ontario, Oregon to have my hands operated on and it was the first time I had my dog boarded in 13 years. It was a life changing year and I walked away from a great job, because I decided life was too short to allow it to be trivialized.

Trailer Life

Trailers are more than a shelter,

They’re a gift from the asphalt god…

They offer the perks of a mansion,

While squatting on rich men’s sod.

A safe house for an outlaw,

The perfect hide-a-way, ready to roll,

A cabin parked in Wal-Mart’s lot,

Cheap housing, for one on the dole.

Trailers are the safety nets,

Where falling meth addicts crash…

Some trailers are the dumpsters,

And the occupants, the trash.

Some trailers make it possible,

To live on a sandy beach…

Gathered like wagons in a circle,

We find the good life within reach.