staring intensely
at the ice cream she thinks . . .
one more week

before giving up
we fill up
on pancakes

sticky, sweet, and syrupy
I pour you over
discs of fluff

my last can of Coke
for the next
forty days

stuffing our faces
at the dinner table
why

masqueraded faces
elaborately decorated
the Venice Carnevale

I find her
behind a mask
in the crowd

picking daisies—
the young girl
wearing Wednesday ashes

10 dollar cigar
in the ashtray
my ash Wednesday

paper cup
set on the terminal floor
missing home

constant meditation
relieves stress
the divorced wife

river calm
mind
thinks of nothing

musky in the weeds
doesn't even flinch at
eye contact

as the wings cup up
and the honks get closer
my therapy begins

cool spring morning
walking in the woods . . .
morels

icy teeth
hanging from the rooftop
the glow of the moon

warm summer breeze
cattails swaying on the bank
not even a bite

silence . . .
a lone howl echoes
under the moonlit sky

old saloon
two men take it outside
at high noon

by the time
I see the pothole
it's too late

watching for danger
the puppy lies
at the end of the child's bed

the reflection I see
is no longer me—
journey’s end

slurred notes
sound the best
brass

the bassist slaps his lifeless lover