My Baby

* * * * * *

The boney limbs of a teenaged boy,

  You always make me think of.

As a pup, lashed against my

  Side each night…

   So’s not to destroy

    All that I supposedly

      Loved.

Your big, loopy grin

   And your grunt

     And your howl

       And your

Ears soft as silk

Soft as silk

Soft as silk.

Get Well Soon

It sounds so cliché`

“A million emotions”

A million emotions…

It sounds so contrived.

But that’s just what I feel

 At the sound of your voice,

  And the touch of your hand

   As I look in your eyes.

A million emotions.

It’s what makes us

Alive.

Hospital Poem II

Wow, excellent successful maneuver this evening.   Visiting Chris in hospital, I was just so brutally exhausted all the sudden and suddenly his hospital bed looks so damn comfy and so I ask him if he wouldn’t mind a little company and of course he’s always been a  very polite and accommodating man, so…

I’m all scrunched up against his good side, and at first I’m dozing and pretty comfortable, but then my lower back starts to spasm and my arm is all numb.

So I don’t wanna upset him or the balance of his situation, so I extricate myself and find that I am sliding down to the floor like a lizard and jesus Christ, if anyone had entered at that moment – forget it.  As Chris said later: “I thought you were morphing into Benny Hill.”

Anyhow, the head surgeon walks in like literally 3 seconds after I’ve grappled to my feet and so he’s just missed this whole extravagant, weird display of mine.

He gives us very nice news.  All systems go on recovery, baby.  Home very soon.  I am euphoric.

And after he leaves, me and Chris look at each other.  I’m smiling, but Chris is all stern.

He goes:

“See?  That’s why you can’t lay on the bed, honey.  You can’t be pulling that undignified crap with these stiffs coming around all day long.”

Yeah. 

A very good day.

Hospital Poem

Saw this nurse in

Post-op tonight.

She said: “You need some rest.

Go take a rest…

We got your baby.”

But then you piped in….from the other room….said,

  “Hey, that guy in the next bed –

     What a freak…”

I said: “Wha’d he do?”

You:  “He threw his phone in a pitcher…of water…

             And he fought…with his woman, like a nut … at 2:00 a.m.”

I said: “Wow!  So he’s not so ZEN, then?”

You:     “Zen Buddhist, my ass.  Gimme a fuckin’ break.”

SO, yeah.  I need you to talk about stuff with, obviously.

 * * * * *

Poem for Today

Control Freak.

Everyone is one or everyone knows one.

I have known ‘em and

I stand before you, justly accused.  

And it’s cliché, but honestly –

The greatest strength is letting go. 

Because there’s only that, you know.

It’s all illusion

There is no Control.