Canker Sore III

A crater,
all that remains.

I trace the outline with my tongue,
still can't help myself.

By tomorrow it will be gone completely.
Or maybe the next day.

It barely even hurts anymore.

Canker Sore II

Still there.

Every time
I feel for it,
it's still there.

Rough edges smoothing.
Sharp pain dulling,
and spreading
throughout the cheek.
It is evolving.

Evolving in to nothing,
I hope.

Canker Sore I

Canker sore
inside my cheek
down by the gum.

All day long
aggrivating it
with my tounge.

I just can't help myself.

Stray Potential

Strange compliments
on things I don't value
always make me question
my priorities in life.

A stray compliment to
my choice of screen name
makes me wonder if I'm
wasting a hidden talent.

Being told my hair looks good
on a day I forgot to brush it,
or told I smell great
on a day I forgot deodorant,
leads me to believe that
the time I take for hygiene
might be all for naught.

After a moment I'm collected,
realizing priorities differ for people.
But for that split second
I wonder if I've gone astray
and left behind a potential
for being something more.

Credit Scammers

Two strange men,
strange in two ways,
attempted to take
avantage today.

'Twas fraud on their minds
of the credit card sort,
and buying electronics
was their choice of sport.

Were I left on my own
they might have succeeded,
but my coworkers proffered
advice that was heeded.

When I told them I'd have
to check with their banks
they quickly responded,
"Thanks, but no no thanks."

Late Night Ruminations

Another midnight trip
to the convenience store.
Half dressed: sans socks, sans belt.

Back home, my dog waits for me
and liquor lines the counter.
This is what happens when I am left
to my own devices,
and vices.

At the store, the clerk talks about health;
He says spicy food is good for cancer
and advises regular colonoscopies.
His English isn't good enough
to understand my commiseration
when he tells of his sister's death.

Driving aimlessly homeward
(it is more direction than destination)
I consider the candor of such a stranger.
Then, in an intersection, I encounter another.

A man is crossing the road
and stops on the double yellow line.
With no one behind me, I wave him to pass,
but he just waves me on, with larger motions.
We trade gestures in this manner for a bit
before devolving into a staring contest.

Eventually, I concede and drive on.
Straight home, this time,
where I contemplate the men I've met.
Both giving of themselves to me,
and both who could not or would not
allow reciprocation.

At least my dog will let me show him a little love.

Sleeping In

A full day calls for
a full night of rest,
but how can I sleep
with so much undone?

The house is a mess,
the dog is depressed,
but my eye lids droop
and it's half past one.

I'll clean in the morn';
for now I need sleep.
I'll be up in time
to greet the noon sun.

Meat Machine

An automaton
sits in the corner
dispensing fine products of meat.

For just three dollars
be the proud owner
of a cheddarwurst sausage treat.

How could I resist?
I am but a man
and it is cold-hearted machine.

I gave of my cash
and within the can
began an incredible scene.

Pistons were pumping.
Bumpers were bumping.
Trapdoors were dumping.
My heart was thumping.

And then, in a tray,
the output appeared:
a glistening sausage and bun.

I snatched it up quick
and ate without fear,
satisfied in what I had won.

Cheese in Motion

This is not the shul where I grew up.
The stairwells and classrooms where I played
as a child are all gone for good.

The new cantor is okay, I guess.
But she is not the same cantor who
instructed me for my Bar Mitzvah.

The Rabbi is giving his sermon,
talking about being willing to
move ahead in life to new places.

How far ahead does one have to move
before they become seperated
from the roots that they hoped to preserve?

In the Courts of Kings

Workshop again today.

Listening to others mistaking
my personal experience for metaphor
or
misreading my allusions to
one movie for another.

At least they liked the shape.

I have never professed to know
what I am doing
when I do it.
Never claimed to be any more
than a dabbler dabbling
in the courts of kings.

Still, it burns
to see my words misread,
to hear my thoughts misthought,
to taste the bitter taste
of misinterpretation.



Later, on the elevator,
thinking these same thoughts,
I mistakenly exit, twice,
on to the wrong floor.

Pre-emptive Rush Hour

As red becomes green, and
not a moment later,
a honk breaks the silence.

There must be a reason
for such crude impatience.
A place to be gone or
a person to be seen.

A fire is cliche,
not that it would matter.
In such an occurrence
loss of property and
life trumps elitism

Too early in the day
for stores to be closing,
and who ever heard of
needing to shop so bad?

As I pause to ponder
the reasons that may be
for such stark impatience,
there comes a second honk.

Awoken By An Unexpected Phonecall

Work calls.
I'm late for a shift
that isn't mine.

Sorrow mixes with indignation
and a touch of fear.
Weeks of preparation endangered
through scheduling error.

Then a light,
followed by another ring.
The situation straightens out.
All is forgiven.