Anonymity
Tufts of airy gossip
inflated with unsolicited opinions
of oversized waist lines
and poorly performed
liquor-tinted soliloquies
tumble my way.
While duck boots wade
through puddles of rain
to overcooked supper
wide, toothy grins
smear across plush, apple cheeks
smitten by the sunset.
There will always be another
(But never this one).
Never this day
Never this meal
(I always stutter when Grandpa asks me to say Blessing)
Years have flown by
and I still somehow want
to stand next to these
Manhattan Elites
who cannot remember names
but are the first to point
when someone wears a skirt
on eve of the first frost.
Reckless Abandonment
Bells ripple through the basilica
I squint at pigments of emerald
I breathe in aging oak
and old, rotting altar-serving robes.
Candle wax cascades like a river
And glory, I forgot a hair tie.
When do we break bread again?
Giving basket floats by, I look.
One day I’ll pray for others.
Time melts like butter through my fingers.
Lately sermons churn my organs
like the batter of a country-style omelet.
I pack nothing and leave and
years later,
I knock on His door in the hurling snow,
“Let me in. I’m cold.”
