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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