Stranger

There was a stranger at my sister’s funeral
He came in late and stood at the back
He was tall, but slightly stooped
His white hair swept back
Wearing dark glasses
He wants to be invisible, I thought

Sitting in the family pew
I watched him from the corner of my eye
“Who’s that man in the back?”
My husband turned to look
“Don’t turn around,” I hissed
“How would I know?” he said

I felt compelled to share
When the time came in the service
I said the things people say
The usual meaningless things
And I watched the man in the back
As he stood expressionless

As the benediction ended
I pushed out of the pew
“What are you doing?” my husband said
“I want to know who he is,” I said
But the stranger had already left the church
I rushed to the side door

I tore my heels off and ran
Rounding the corner I glimsed him driving off
My sister’s lover?
An ex-husband we didn’t know about?
“Wait!” I shouted
“Who are you?”

Time's Arrow

There is no time

I knew this even before

I grew tall enough to see over

The absurdity of it

Before I realized that

I was not at the center

of anything

I knew that events

Determined the trajectory

of time’s arrow

That only my consciousness

Constituted the reality

Of the past

Or the future

I knew that time

did not exist

Anymore than

The soul

Or God

Or love

Existed

The Death of Innocence

What can we know

About this child lying dead

Here, in this trackless land

of fierce sun and shifting sands?

That he played and laughed

And stood gazing in wonder

At a night sky filled with myriad stars

Endless, like the ghibli blown dust

That Malak al-Maut came for him

Unbidden, as the angel is wont to do

For the warrior, the woman, the aged

For this innocent child

That the angel of death came swifltly

Across an azure sky

Streaked with feathery clouds and fire

And he took this boy’s breath

And he took this boy’s body

And his soul, breathed them in

And exhaled his being in ghlibli dust

And placed his soul in the garden of heaven

Speak to me of mercy

Speak to me of compassion

Speak to me of innocence

And show me this small child

What can we know

About this child lying dead?

Q Squad Report

Officers responded to report

Of juveniles prowling vehicles

Upon arrival

Officer Argentina spotted

One of the suspects

Who fled on foot 

But was not as fast
As Officer Argentina

Who detained and restrained

The 14 year-old reported

Assault by 18 year-old brother

Who kept hitting him
All over his body

With an extension cord

Preliminary investigation indicates

Mother requested that brother hit him with the cord

Because he was performing poorly at school

Officer Argentina went to home

Mother reported break in at front door

Which no longer locks

Due to her children breaking in repeatedly

Nothing appears to have been stolen

But someone may have taken a shower

And probably ate, too

Mother suspects her son

Who is on the run

From his probation officers

Complainant at home

Reported to Officer Argentina

That her 18 year-old grandson

Threatened to kill himself

Because his computer was shut off

His grandmother took him to the Hospital

Because he said his blood was hot

Son called station

To report he wanted to kill himself

He said he had hit his foot several times

With a hammer

Officer Argentina

Issued a detain and transport

To Detox

Lost and Found and Lost

I found the music cassette
After all these years
Dropped out of a box
of old videos
(I don't even have a VCR anymore)

I looked and looked for it
I don't know why
Just because you recorded it
These were the songs
That meant something to you then

"Who Wants to Live Forever"
The hell with everything
We were in  love
I was writing poetry
Like a lovesick teenager

I listen now
And can't find the words
But the feelings?
They still come
Overwhelming me again

Who dares to love forever

Street of Dreams

There on the left

the entrance

a narrow archway

hidden by the foliage

A courtyard

the fountain sparkles

in the noon sun

the sound of water falling

"I want to kiss you

No, no, not here"

Quickly, across the cobbled street

To the right

Up the stairs

of my pension

the cumbersome key

fumbled in the lock

Oh, and then

desperate for the kiss

overcome

fainting with desire

Heart racing

falling on the bed

bodies entangled

press her to me

I turn from my window

and survey the empty room

Did I hear footsteps

on that street of dreams?

Horses are running underground

Horses are running underground and it feels like an earthquake.

That's what I get for living in Los Angeles.

Where else can the horses run?