the GODZ
I think Buk’s gods
are smiling on me
right now
two job offers in one week
getting rid of
a spoiled vindictive
red-haired bitch
a coming to terms
with a spouse
for final separation
& still maintaining
a cordial relationship
working on a seventies
muscle car
from the ground up
able to go long periods
without weed
still getting it up
after 56 years
keeping the weight off
women catching my eye
& me catching theirs
being able to cook
decent food
making a living
making my friends laugh
& making them cry
having friends
having parents
having kids
who still love me
but unlike Buk
I don’t have a racetrack
to burn money at
or women to kick
off the sofa
cats to caress
or fruit in the backyard
to pick & thankfully
I’m not six feet under
just yet
buk’s birthday poem
howling winds off
lake erie
ripping materials
off the roof
across the way
last night as I watched
they were meant for
much needed repairs
for those poor suckers
with buckets in living rooms
catching rain
I backed away
from the window
as sheets of plywood
peeled from the stack
like a game of
52 pick-up
for giants
they circled the
courtyard
looking for any
movement below
power flickered
on & off
just enough
that I had to keep
resetting the
fucking clocks
but I was snug
& warm in my jammies
a mug of tea
& thinking of buk
so dead in his
underground house
smiling at us
& our struggle
to put on paper
what he already
knows
raping the willing
re-inventing history
seems to be the way
people are making themselves
feel good when the truth
is too hard to swallow
Abe Lincoln didn’t free the slaves
they ran away or so the radio
informed me this morning
text books are ripping out
large chunks of yesterday
just so today could be more
palatable & shaped into food
for a society too stupid
to know the difference
while chewing on breakfast
cappuccino & bagels
it won’t be long before
Hitler will be looked upon
as being a poor misunderstood
white guy addled by drugs
I guess this is to make us
feel good about ourselves
after all the shit we heaped upon
the backs of people who were
struggling just to survive
& were used to expand
the bank accounts of the
privileged few who govern
this brave new world
devoid of history & tradition
sort of like the way men treat women :
keep them barefoot & pregnant
& too stupid to know
when they were being raped
& too tired to fight back
when the knife is at the throat
happy birthday son
strong winds & rain overnight
had changed to snow
by the time I got up
this morning
I had an eighth of a tank
of gas
but it’s been like that
since Christmas
at nine bucks an hour
you don’t have much money
to spare for frivolous things
like gas when you live five minutes
from work & stores
or so I thought
as I power slid up the hill
it started to die on me
making loud popping sounds
like a camshaft was thinking
of letting go
then a quietness
& bone chilling realization set in
mingled with the gale
coming up off the lake
that I wasn’t going to
make it to my sons
twenty-sixth birthday party
he’s a good kid
makes decent money
never has been in trouble
with the law or women
after dumping half a can
of dry gas in & waiting
thirty minutes or so
it started right up
& got me to a gas station
to fill up with my last ten bucks
at least I got his present
ahead of time
& they left me a plate
of food to eat when I got there
& it was still warm
but it made me think
that I’d rather have this
emergency happen to me
than to him someplace
out in the sticks
or the near east side
in the middle of the night
without a dime in his pocket
the fortunes of parents
quickly fade
with a dying economy
when industry wants
young people
instead of old farts like me
& I don’t begrudge him
or them that
the truck started right up
this morning
when I went to work
it didn’t stutter or die
but reminded me
that everything gets old
sooner or later
even him
dry gas is a wonderful thing
to suck up moisture
when a tank is near empty
but it won’t help me
when my tank goes dry
keep your tank full son
