The Future

We need more people in Midtown.
So many we love to make eye contact.
Lost in the rush,
Not afraid to trust.

Old Church

Women would love to pay a visit, light a candle, pray in the dark.
But they’re leery. Who’s lurking?
So they don’t come. Or not as much.

Men would love to pay a visit, sit in the dark, admire the beauty.
But they are afraid.
Who’s watching me? Who doesn’t trust me?
They don’t feel safe even here.

Not so great

How many people walking slowly in the dark,
Loving our trees, our magic,
Have been attacked, their faith shattered?

Trees no longer sacred but hiding places,
Midtown no longer magical but scary?

City-Sponsored

Parking lots under freeway great places for boxing match,
Tapping the violence waiting to erupt,
Bringing it into the open –
The homeless seeing fighters do to each other
what they would love to do to an ex-boss,
ex-wife, the cops,
Shouting, drinking, smoking, having somewhere to pee.
Finally feeling freed.

The Handshake of Peace

We shake hands at church,
Proud to make a connection.
On the street we see each other as jerks,
Look in a different direction.

Early Sunday Morning

Almost empty church.
Piano playing full blast.
Got on my nerves.
No wonder no one comes back.

St. Blaise Day

Got my throat blessed
To speak what’s true
With the time I have left.

The Connection

Somewhere in Midtown
Tobacco loving sinner
Smokes in the dark.
A zen moment.
Inhaling.
Exhaling.
Like the breaking and retreating of a wave,
The rise and fall of the tide.
Smoke rising like incense.
Cigarette glowing like a beacon.

The Price of Victory

All the men in prison,
Feminists laugh We won.
All the slobs on the street,
Can’t wait for somebody to beat.

The Rebuke

Guy didn’t look right leaving the stately house.
What’s wrong with him?
Then she bounded down the steps,
panties and t-shirt.
Great legs,
screaming as she confronted him at the curb.
He didn’t respond.
You could tell he felt naked.