Chacha for dumdums
My earliest educational system
Memory:
On the playground
Running with the boys
Un-individuated
We made a pass, then
Swooped around behind;
I was learning herd mentality
Aspects of which to work against every waking
Moment of one’s life lest one become a mob punk
Or a shallow alt yuppie in need of
Spiritual corrective action,
Or a mountain top freak
Still really trapped.
Salsa is becoming
The close-out to every poem I write.
It provides (re)introduction to connection,
Respect, responsiveness, the higher
Freedoms and illuminations of the bootee,
It will help you manage your drinking,
Face off dementia,
It’s good cardio.
One can hang with a crowd
&with the self, live in two worlds.
____________
Aria
He was from a mid-size town
With a medium amount of problems,
Not as bad as it used to be;
Still it was good to arrive in Long
Beach CA and make a life in the
Gay ghetto on the southern fringe of LA.
He had a decent lower rung
White collar job, some responsibility,
Not too much, and at night did
Community theater musicals. He didn’t
Have a big talent, but brought what
He had, and earned the affection
And respect of his colleagues.
Later at night though no drinker
He loved to dance
Till the lights came on.
Then he’d go down to The Shore for
Breakfast, taking Redondo Ave,
Which he did the final Saturday night.
People at 4th St. heard him
Approaching the intersection
And the police chase he did not hear
Singing at the top of his voice.
____________
Author resides West coast USA. Publications include Rolling Stone and Wormwood Review.
Rusty Truck 