Must Write

trumpet blasts
sax wails
up and down the jazz scales
sex sells
drum beats
out into the city streets
rain falls
wind blows
up and down the hedge rows
must write
engage
something on the blank page
been there
done that
now I wear the poet's hat ...

Copyright 2005 E. Bond Francisco

My Shoes (without Adjectives)

My Shoes without Adjectives
(4/30/05)

My shoes wear the color of the darkest shadow on the brightest day
The left one leans inward slightly,
A half-inch less on one side than the other
The heel worn away in support of my twisted gait
The right leans inward slightly also,
The gait less twisted there

My shoes have a soul
Their many years of service ignored, mostly
Yet they greet me daily with pleasant anticipation, tongues wagging
They are my only shoes
Imagine, one pair of shoes, all those years.

My shoes move almost as by themselves, should I forget the way
They can, on their own, I suspect, bring me home.
I stare at them frequently, reassuring myself of their steady pace
On rare occasions the trials of the journey cause them to become undone
Yet they recover easily, my shoes, without prozac or much encouragement.

COPYRIGHT 2005 E. Bond Francisco

Dream

Asleep on the couch
The day’s work ages me
Dream
Rent a van, an old rusty van
Drive it home
Home 39 years ago
Smoke a joint, bored
Wonder where my girlfriend is
19 years in the future
She’s there somehow
Sit on the porch,
They tow the family car home
Park it by the road side
Dusty dirt road
I cry
My father’s home
The day’s work ages him.

Copyright 2005 E. Bond Francisco

Sketch

SKETCH

Hot wind of bus exhaust
Lifts scraps of today’s news high above the street
Phone numbers scrawled on a bus stop bench
The dealer, the lover, the dentist share this common thread
Sit waiting by the phone for the bus rider’s call
Jack hammer pounding, cement saw
Slices sidewalk into manageable pieces
Clouds of chalky white dust float upward into the city skyscape
Fall back onto rooftop gardens and sleeping dogs

Copyright 2005 E. Bond Francisco