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WHO I AM
In the middle of the day
Six teenage boys
Came to me
As in a dream
Whoa man
Said one
Whoa whoa man
Said another
Hey mister said a third
None knew my name or my game
Or the name of my dog
Later at the cupboard
Getting a mug
For hot water and tea
I said to the receptionist
Show me your numbers
And she lay down
On the table
Lifted her skirt
And there on her right thigh
Running
Down
Almost to her knee
Was her federal tax ID, her cell phone number,
Her American Express
account and curling up toward the outer thigh her visa and library card numbers, ending in her driver’s license number
As if it were the cross piece of a scrabble game
triple word score.
I never forget who I am she said to me
Oh, I replied
But I still don’t know your shoe size
let me look at your arch.
SNOW NIGHT
The snow came so quickly
I was in the museum
And came out into a Utrillo painting
Walking along the Seine
Sidewalks covered
Trees dressed in winter white
Snow blowing cross wise yet gently
past my eyes crossing my face
touching my cheek
I walked for a mile
Happily
I was art personified
In the perfect storm
For me romantic
And I was hungry enough to think of food
The temperatures were rising
And soon the frost would be rain
and wash the painting clean
It was one of those evenings
I didn’t need a fireplace
or a glass of brandy
The night, in each whiff,
contained chocolate, coffee, tulips
Mozart, Brahms, cognac, oysters
Love.
LUNCH POEM
By 3:23 the light begins to fade
And that’s when I take late lunch.
I go to the food court
And find the stations with the least crowds
Where the food must be bad
Or out of fashion
Or maybe the price is $2 more
Than at the other stations.
I take a seat, a counter seat,
And read the sign board
Not knowing what anything means.
It is like in Petersburg trying to
Order Olivia Salad and learning it is as Greek
as Greek Salad
Or Caesar
Names that must be learned. Hot Dog.
I don’t want to eat but am hungry.
The crowd, thin that it is, is young
Handsome and pretty, chic and cool.
I don’t fit in the place
I’m like a chaperone at the
Junior High Dance.
When I pick my meal to order
It is sold out.
“Would you like Mel Dubin Salad?” I’m asked.
Would you?
HER BEAUTY
Her beauty like a flower
that launched battleships
drew men to arms
led stallions to leap
lit starless skies
when darkness was everywhere
and blackness prevailed
Her beauty struck a match
like sweet william in still air
like twilight bird’s silence
like foxglove trellising on sea cliffs
that roam the islands edge
before tide crashes
spray mist in the air
Her beauty he saw
and she saw it reflected
in his eyebrows
how they rose and fell
like tides
when she smiled
or snickered
joked or cried
everywhere her beauty lay
on the rocks the sand the dust the clouds the stars.
COLD LIGHTS
Outside my window there is steam
and there are lights in a skyscraper
where people sit at their desks
and the lights let them work.
I bought two hot tamales
from the Mexican food cart
hoping it would warm me.
The lights are cold
as I see them
some go in rows
running away from me
and others go in rows
perpendicular to me.
I like the ones that run away
as if they have a place to go
where at the end of the line
people are warm
without coats.
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