Wednesday, February 22, 2017

where ever the rain must fall

Grape-sized hail

fell before equinox,

hard enough to knock


the petals off

the apple trees

where they speckled


the garden paving stones

before the bees

could work them over.


Samantha made a mental note

to ask Juan to sweep them up

while she was gone

to her Monday pilates class.


Eric, the carroty Irish

red-haired and freckled kid

with Chinese eyes,


stuffed his physics book

and dog-eared Heinlein

into a library-sized rucksack,


smashing his tuna sandwich

and crushing his dill pickle

potato chips to crumbs.


He almost missed the bus.

Found a seat next to Maria

who was stroking


the fine dark hair

of eight month old Roberto.

Eric stared at the spider web tattoo


that climbed up her neck

to just below her ear.

Someday she'd like


to get it removed.

It's been two years

since she left the homies


who hung out on the stairs

in front of her mothers house,

and if she never saw Tomas


again, that would be fine too.

They both turned when Gus,

began to fuss with the bill


of his frayed fatigue cap,

running his fingers

over the blood red motto


embroidered on the crown

that read semper fi.

He sputtered d,d,damn it.


now I'm m,m,mad.

and closed his eyes

trying to summon


an old song from the sixties 

while the sound of mortars exploding

replayed over and over in his head.


John waited patiently behind

the bus in his Tesla Model S.

A Chopin etude filled the car


where he sat contemplating

his day's meetings and deals

cocooned in leather solitude.


The clouds gathered and waited

to deliver the same blessing

or rage to fall.


Some would have shelter

and some not at all.

Thursday, February 16, 2017

Nobody here but us chickens

I like to get to work early. I can have some coffee, take stock, make an inventory of the shop and my scattered mind. Shelves filled with a good supply of paper.
Standard bond, colored bond, laids, linens, brights and rags.
Customer courtesy bottles of white out, some pens and glue sticks, scissors.
Copiers warmed up, filled up and ready.
Cash register primed with three hundred dollars in coin and currency.
Job orders that need to be completed or started now.
OK, it's all cool.
Time to sit down and check my email, surf for a bit.
So, what's up this morning, credit fixes, herbal penis enlargements, discount tranquilizers, rolex knockoffs, anti aging creams, penny stocks, horny housewives looking to party, special box to watch cable for free, opportunity to make seventeen million dollars by helping out nephew of ex minister in Nigeria. More credit fixes, get the dirt on friends, neighbors or cheating spouses, is my cock hard enough, big enough, long lasting enough, (what did men do before the web I wonder)
How much time do I have before shop has to open, fifteen minutes. I hope there is something from the poultry breeders, I'd like to get some variety in my flock. But first I'll check the dating site, maybe somebody has sent me a message. One message. Guess I'm not as cool as I think I am. Maybe it's a good one though, remember: quality not quantity. Right, keep telling yourself that dork.

To: alleycat
From: rivernymph
Subject: So you like chicks, huh?

If you have a small flock of chicks, what do you need this website for? ha ha ha. How many cocks do you have? tee hee. Seriously though, where can I hear your music, it sounds cool. Do you ever play in the City? I don't have a car and you live out there in the boonieburbs.
I like your picture, is that recent? Anyway if you are gonna be playing somewhere I'd love to hear it. And please ask me anything you'd like to know about me. You seem like a cool guy.
Later
rivernymph

Shit, I shouldn't have implied that I was in a current band, need to change that to something like, like, putting together alt band, no that sounds too immanent. Developing concept for alt rock band, oh yeah maybe that'll work. If it doesn't sound like some lame Hollywood limodriver/producer or burgerflipper/screenwriter. As if copy store manager/singer/songwriter is much better. Or copy store manager/singer/songwriter/artist/chicken fancier. Like that is so unnerdy. Maybe make it more ambiguous but cool sounding. Like publishing & music development. That sounds good but isn't too specific. What happens if I actually hook up with somebody though and they find out I'm exaggerating? That would be so embarrassing, god. How about just lay out the cards face up? Lonely copy store manager who once was in a band and still writes songs that nobody ever hears. Pets: six chickens and a cat. That's better, more prosaic but I want reality from them so I should be real too. Ok: better fix the profile and hope that works.
Hmm, what else is here? Oh shit, Marty. What is it going to be this time?

To: Felix
From: Martin Flack
Subject: April Sales

Felix-
Just went over this month's numbers. Nice improvement m/m from March but we aren't hitting the goals we set for this quarter. You had a nice drive to the 10 yard line but settled for a field goal. We need a touchdown, guy! Was it not clear to you at the Team Strategy session that it is imperative that we hit 150K on the Docucenters this month? And every month? From now on dude. You need to huddle up with your squad and kick some tail or whatever it takes to put some points on the board. I don't want to have to come down there to do some asskicking myself, but I will if I have to.

-Marty

God, what a moron, don't think I'm ready to respond to this first thing in the morning. Let's see what other gems I have today.
.... approval rate accepted, hook up with new girls, generic medicines, low home mortgage rates, top dog training secrets revealed, want something extra in bed, invitation, rock hard chipmunk, online pharmacy...
oh this one should be good:

To: Felix
From: Jessica Toptower
Subject: Smith vs Jones documents

Good Morning Felix,

Can you be a dear and give me an estimate on when you expect to have the copies of the documents I dropped off yesterday finished? Our court date has been moved ahead and I'm just frantic to get those ASAP. I understand that those originals are a pain with all the unstapling restapling unbinding, etc. as you told me yesterday when I brought in the boxes, but I really really need to get them back. Also if you wouldn't mind, could you do this yourself? The girl (Stephanie?)is always so uncommunicative and terse, it borders on rudeness and I don't think she takes the special care that you always do.
You're a dear, thanks so much.

Jessica Toptower
Toptower and Marconi
Attorneys at law

Oh shit, this is going to be a fun day. All that hand copying or handholding. Better have a talk with Stephanie about how to deal with Jessica, she's a pompous self righteous prig but she brings us a lot of work. Better if I do the work, but fences need mending.

More discount meds, fake rolexes, and hello! Chickens! Oh, my Oh my, Oh my, I hope this one has what I'm looking for!

To: Felix Day
From: Heritage Hatchery
Subject: Current Stock

Dear Mr. Day,
Thank you for your inquiry about the breeds we are raising here at Heritage Hatchery. We take pride in having maintained the finest and healthiest antique and rare breeds of poultry on the West Coast for more than 60 years. This year we are pleased to offer some very special breeds.
You expressed a particular interest in hardy layers, so I would suggest you consider Barnevelders, a dual purpose breed originally from Holland. They are good layers, sit and brood their own young, produce good sized brown shelled eggs. Other breeds I recommend to you are the Dominque, the breed from which the popular Plymouth Rock fowl was developed and Frieslands, another Dutch breed with a very long history. Frieslands are excellent everyday layers, although their eggs are a bit smaller. Although primarily raised today as an exhibition fowl, you might be happy with the Minorca, a Spanish breed noted for it's very large chalk white eggs.
For something a little more unusual, the Araucana, brought into the US from South America originally, produces beautiful greenish or blue shelled eggs.
Another excellent choice for the small home flock would be the Faverolle, they have a very good disposition and are good producers as well. They have a brilliant range of contrasting colors so they would certainly add to your "yard art".
All of these would be suitable for the conditions you described, they are good foragers and would be quite well suited to a free range environment. Of course a good roosting house is recommended for their protection from predators.
Our stock is available as hatching eggs or chicks on a local pickup basis only. Please call ahead to ensure that we have what you are interested in and to make arrangements for taking delivery.
Thank you for your interest, I look forward to assisting you in building your flock.

Sincerely,
Margaret Tolliver
Owner, Heritage Hatchery

Heritage Hatchery current breeds:
Ancona (aka Black Leghorn), Araucana, Barnevelders, Cornish, Dominque, Dorking (Silver Gray, Dutch Bantam (Cuckoo and Blue Golden), Faverolles, Friesland, Golden Penciled Hamburgs, Jersey Giants, Langshan (Black or White), Leghorn (Single comb Brown), Minorca (Single comb black), Modern Game (Silver Duckwing) ornamental, Old English Game ornamental, Plymouth Rock (Barred), Polish (Bearded Silver ) ornamental, Silkie Bantam ornamental, Styrian, Sussex, White-Faced Black Spanish, Wyandotes (Silver Laced and Silver Penciled)

Oh cool! A few of these would be great to add to my Leghorns and Plymouth Rocks. The Araucona for sure, those blue eggs, nice. I like the look of those Faverolles too. What the fuck am I going to do with all those eggs though, some to Dick and Sally, keeping the landlords happy is a good idea, keep them from getting itchy about the chickens too. Offer some to Stephanie, definitely, fuck, dare I ask her out, so tricky getting involved with someone from work, especially when I'm her boss. I don't feel like a boss just another pawn in the company but what if she feels like I'm pressuring her or shit! what if she is repulsed, how the fuck am I going to work with her after that, reminded every time she looks at me that I'm such a dork. What if she thinks, Felix you lame-assed geek, get a life; and stay out of mine. What if, what if, what if. Calm down dude, you don't know that. And it's just some eggs for christ's sake, you're not asking her to get closer to hers. OK, OK, it'll be fine. Dumbass. Counting eggs before they are laid anyway.

Time to open the shop, the early birds will be here soon with their reports and flyers and dog-eared novels. Might as well get started on Jessica Toptower's stuff. What's in the box, what's in the box, good god, what a mare's nest. Bent velobound briefs from twenty years ago, fat transcripts caked with dust on the page ends, must have been sitting on a shelf untouched since Jimmy Carter fought the killer rabbit away from his canoe. Sheaves of pages torn from yellow legal pads, paper clipped or stapled or bunched together by crumbling rubber bands. Is this is the look of entropy? All those words threatening to slide into the forgotten. Packets of letters. These are more recent. They all seem to be from Barbara Skinner to Mary Alice Flounder. What is this all about? Some dark family secret? Somewhere in this mess, money is lurking, there always is when it goes to court. It's how we keep score and make restitution or punishment or settle arguments, agreements or injury. Should I sneak a peak at them? Can't really help but get little dribs and drabs and pieces anyway, I have to look at what I'm doing after all. It's a fringe benefit.

Wednesday, February 15, 2017

Dominoes


The tiles were not supposed to land this way
-twisting and churning
on a velveteen Goodwill couch

on the wrong side of midnight
on the wrong side of the bay,

facing a red-eyed day in the office
in the night-before clothes in which
I'd danced the night away.

It started with a vodka tonic at Sinbad's
a casual reconnection with a former colleague.
Not a bad sin, no tiles had yet slipped.

But she brought a friend
-a tipsy skydive instructor,
already half tanked on merlot.

She wore a red cape and silk Supergirl shorts
over her skintight jeans. The ladies were hungry.

For tapas and sangria at some Brazilian place
halfway across town on Haight.

Supergirl yanked up her shirt
on our way to the car
flashed her hooters at four lanes
of Embarcadero commuters.

She didn't get any strings of beads
tossed her way, just lots of hoots and honks
for her outfront topless display.

San Francisco ain't New Orleans
and we ain't no saints, besides,
it was long past Mardi Gras anyway.

After her provocative gesture,
we jumped in the car
and drove out to the Brazilian joint
for the much anticipated tapas and sangria.

They thought it would be brilliant
to cap it off with one of the legendary
martini's at Zam Zam.

So our mood and our limbs
would be properly lubed
for dancing at the Milk Bar
til 2:00 a.m.

and the last domino would fall
with a sprawl on a velveteen
Goodwill couch,

on the wrong side of midnight,
on the wrong side of the bay.

Friday, February 3, 2017

Semi Cyclops

One eye sees as keen
as Gary Winogrand,

the small dramas on the street
scrolling by the filmy window.

The bus stops a foot away
from a curbside plane tree.

Inscription knifed sharp
into the flaky bark:
-BOOTS hearts SF-

The other eye
now renders scenes
as if they were

Clyfford Still
color field paintings
viewed through vaseline
in a dim lit room.

I've not eaten
any of Ulysses' men,
he who called himself
-Nobody-

and blinded Polyphemus
with his burning trunk.

I've still got
the one good eye
to spy out any sea nymphs

who dance naked
in the ocean's spray

like the one I saw
forty seven years ago
a hundred miles
south of Ensenada.