First to Arrive at the Party

To go in? to order a drink?
To disturb the card houses
Of cheese, crackers, strawberries?
Or wait?

To try not to concentrate
On the trish-trash music
Or the shapely, silent waitress
The quietly deafening hiss of the heaters
Or imagine the sunset reflected accross the lake

Daylight incrimentally drained
By each burst of, teasingly, tippled
Laughter from another party
But only after the silent blessings
Of the swans and the uneducated
Raucus dismissal of the ducks.

THe music clicks, whines and unwinds
Ceaselessly and STILL nobody arrives

Floodlit table flowers smile
Into non-existent eyes
Real flowers, toes in the dirt,
Close their minds
And put their faith in dawn.

Suddenly I am blended with eight others who,
Smile back at the flowers
Demolish and engulf the houses
Gone the hiss, the music, the ducks.

WRM

A Couple to Think About

Transport

In the frying pan
On the stove
I found my love
And me naked.

Chopped onions
Fell on our heads
And made us cry.
It's like a parade,
I told her, confetti
When some guy
Reaches the moon.

"Means of transport,"
She replied obscurely
While we fried.
"Means of transport!"

Charles Simic.

Halitosis

He coughed
I watched and knew
Inhaling any of his breath
Would be fatal

From his depths
He dredged disgusting liquors
And propelled them
In a supersonic bullet
To the street.

This was a moan universal
In his repulsiveness
Not even one stitch
Of his clothing endeared him.

WRM