Eden

There was tv show called Eden

conceived with the popular formula

of the reality survivor trope.

Plop a couple dozen citizens

into a wild Scottish peninsula

insulate them from the modern world,

record their interactions,

see how they would cope,

a human petri dish

under a hi-def microscope.

Some Eves and Adams,

a fisherman and a nurse,

perhaps they'd find out

if their Abel would be able

to escape Cain's curse.

All went well enough it seems

in midsummer's mild clime,

four episodes were seen.

Then something happened

some of the intrepid participants

began to disappear, the core

was whittled to a few

and it was rumored that

some were smuggling liquor

into their isolated and hoped for

pristine midst, uncorrupted nor

distracted by the kingdom's

brewing discontent.

The camera's kept recording,

but no segments made the air,

the remaining adventurers

continued the experiment.

perhaps in ignorance,

but I wonder if

along with the contraband,

the smugglers also trafficked

in the news and decided

they would rather tolerate

the midges and mosquitos,

the jealousies and slights

within their manufactured tribe

than the world outside

accessible with a click.

vets

the street vets tend

to share a certain

silhouette.

whiskery as a terrier

black watch caps

camo patterned coats.

clothes and kit

stuffed in bags 

that sit neatly

in a row against the fence

around the newest high rise

erupting south of market.

some never speak a word

and others never stop

and i've never heard

from any of my old pals

with whom i shared many

a bowl of afghan black,

if they ever made it back

to galveston or ok city.

except for jim who

stayed in and climbed

from pfc to colonel.

last year i got a message

from his wife that his heart

had given out in tel aviv

so we'll not be sitting

beside the donau river

sipping our old favorite brew,

the one named for the sun.

things

I believe that

something clings

to some…things:

Stonehenge, bodhi trees

the wailing wall, the Kaaba

Chickamauga, Wounded Knee.

Some live behind ropes or under glass

Lincoln's top hat, Jefferson's bible,

pieces of the Berlin wall,

-sometimes even the mundane.

I was standing on my usual corner

enjoying my usual ten o'clock smoke

and I heard a quiet voice

behind me softly muttering

a string of urgent messages

about conspiracies on BART

and invocations to some Cynthia

in phrases whose meaning

was only known to the ragged

woman with a missing right

maxillary lateral incisor.

She was dressed in many layers

and a super hero themed bandana

wrapped around her head..

In the middle of her opaque

and pauseless stream

she clearly said,

May i trade you a lighter

for a cigarette? and held

out two in her dirt smeared hand.

I declined her proffered swap

and gave her a cigarette.

She lit it up and placed the lighter

on top of the corner trash bin

and silently suggested with a nod

and downward flick of her eyes

that I should take it, so I did.

It was a standard plastic Bic

with an image of a dark eyed

zombie woman and the name

of a popular television show,

-The Walking Dead.

everything comes in threes

three stolen bicycle rims

stashed up in the crotch

of a tree on Battery Street.

three headless

child mannequins

dressed in cheery pastel

spring collection outfits

in the display window

of the Gap.

three small sweat-sheened
bodies lined up side by side

on a plastic sheet with

contracted pinhead pupils,

diameter: three millimeters.

as if life had become too bright.