What was the last message received from the Challenger?
The teacher saying "What's this button for?"

[Space Shuttle Challenger was lost in an explosion as it took off from Cape Canaveral on January 28, 1986, killing all seven people on board, including the first
civilian in space, a high school teacher.]

What's light brown and furry with four legs and could
have changed the course of human history?
A dingo in Bethlehem.

Wind whispers with her love affair
to wings spread wide and unaware
of songs that breathe soft melody
when nothing else can quite compare.

Her laughter trickles wild and free
for bright red lines on his marquee
to sway and bob his serpent's tail
mid cherry blossom potpourri.

Such sweet embrace will soon curtail
and leave us breathless to exhale
this dragon's romance on spring air
with string-tied kites for gusts to sail.

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          I recall our hand-signs in carnival,

          the silver rings on your white gloves,

          your fingers making to me –

          you are daytime, Wooden Mary,

          these are evening and small hours.

          That was your name for me, and with it

Sometimes my heart hurts like so much dust covers it.
It's like when I pee blood I pee dirt.
Uncomfortable is this lifestyle,
so why am I in love with it?

Scared to be alone at night with the vampires and werewolves,
reaching out through phone calls,
to be ignored by my sentinels.

Thinking that my girlfriend must hate,
this person I am.
She won't take my phone calls,
so I am scared to be my own friend.

Walking on Rush,
back in Night City after midnight,
bars muffled by cold and traffic,
hunched clots of shoulders bowing in the wind
freezing off the lake,
I slid by a canyon alley narrow between scrapers
and glimpsed

dark beauty, round curves tight,
swelling breasts and full lips,
wide hips,
oval face lit by orange
sodium light
in pit of night,
flushed hard with business
and boredom,
gaze turned away from grunting john
to me,

let's resurrect us
based on survival
there is a need
to travel life in pairs
you are weak
a kitten without claws
extraneous, leaning against will

the rock i am built upon
is not your morality of judgment
i don't need your approval
to know when the tide hits
faith won't wash me away

i'll stand content
in the face of deaths voice

not expecting to be saved

Indents

    are

        here

Under umbrella's shade in salty air
on ocean beach's fine ground sand
with love and cold drink near at hand
we've plenty of time we can share
as we talk and lounge without a care

We critique all who chance to pass
in bikinis and scant speedos
oil drenched with sun screened nose
matters not if lad or lass
we sip, then I refill your glass

with Mary.
I was seduced
in Barnes & Noble,
lured to the poetry section
next to coffee and pastries.

I touched her Blue Iris,
fondled her Red Bird
and recounted why
she wakes to watch
the early sunrise.

She looked better than I remembered
in a brown jacket
with a striking
emblem of a bear
on the front.

She took me to her tent
near Truro
and told me of turtles, toads,
hermit crabs,
and her fear
of ridding her garden
a small harmless snake.

.
mumbling
twitchy
noir weasel
on the lam
mean
broke
and broken
he cries
for the last time

baby doll pic
stuck
in hip pocket
rubber garter
on his arm
self awareness dies
slithering into
invisibility