The Gambler’s Cadillac

He drove a shiny new Cadillac
sporting leather seats 
and luxurious upholstery

the car smelled rich but in a month it was gone
so was his wife’s diamond ring

and the living room furniture

but his persistence paid off 
and in a little while she was 
wearing furs and jewels again.

He settled for a Studebaker to transport
his family but like the seasons 
in a little while that too was gone.

He took up boxing to make a buck
used his winnings to gamble as he was inclined
sometimes living flush, other times lean

then his health started to suffer
at his lowest point, so did his marriage 
but yesterday he drove up once again 

in a brand new Cadillac 
...a convertible this time. 

Abandoned Truck

       

     An abandoned truck

   rusted and worn

beaten from carrying

soil and stone.

Designed to make

any load lighter, found

at a farm or

 construction zone.

   Worn out wheels

     with running boards

       friends inside

        going for a ride

          on dusty cushions, ripped and worn.

            Its best days are gone

              but they don't mind,

                 "Let's climb aboard 

                   one at a time."

                   
                     The driver assures

                      the guys and gals

                        there will be plenty of fun

                          to whoop and holler

                           like wild teens

                           after the sun 
                                           
                            goes down.


Photo taken in Alaska by Bill

Easy Riders

Royalty in the Barrio

He was born here

Discriminated and tattooed here

Imprisoned and released here

Fell in love, married and had his kids here

Became famous in his neighborhood.

Honored for walking the narrow line

Turning gangs into community

Finding jobs to support their families

Still cruising the avenues

With base sounds booming from their radios.
Only the best for his friends and automobiles.

Earned respect as he created a legacy

Accepted as part of ethnic diversity

And to all who knew him

They saw royalty ...

A king in the barrio

who will be missed 

by his queen
and crew. 

Cracker Jack

The box remains the same

a sailor and a salute
the promise of a sweet treat;

caramel corn, some nuts and a prize.
The prizes have all changed
nothing to get excited about

Don’t buy it much anymore
but still like the taste
after all these years.  

Thankful for the Many Blessings

pictures to be posted later

It that annual celebration of family and thanksgiving
we gather round the table and notice who is missing
traditions broken by death and living
and yet we gather to give thanks for the many blessings
the breath of life for another day
a new marriage, a new sobriety,
the possibility of a new home
new teeth, and new tattoos
all designed to bring happiness
for a little while
we bow our heads and give thanks
glad for all who have gathered here.  

Pagan Babies

When I was young I used to save
a milk carton of pennies
to feed the pagan babies in China.

Carton after carton was given to the nuns
who packaged those pennies
and took them to the bank.

When enough money was collected
the nuns sent a check to the missionaries
who fed their bodies and saved their souls.

Years later, the population of China
is booming although there are few
Catholics among them

and as our economic systems fail
I wonder if somewhere in their schools
children will collect cartons full of pennies

to save us of from our impending bankruptcy
and deliver us from our financial missteps
so that we can redeem ourselves from collapse?

Life in Fast Forward

She was born the sixth in a family
which grew by four more

but she was the favorite, with a sweet nature
and not part of the competition

among the older ones

Who had to watch out for her

and got in trouble if she got hurt

she didn’t tumble with the rest
her dimples seduced those on the sidelines

became a cheerleader, envied and lusted for
by total strangers

and in the limelight she was alone.

One of the few not asked out for the prom
everyone thought she was spoken for

the boys would shiver when they got close to her
too popular but left alone for the shark

who was older and bolder
so he took her as his own

stealing her away from her brothers and sisters
mother and father, keeping her hidden in isolated areas

where she fell in love with the wilderness
finding comfort in the open air

giving birth to her only son  

who had to compete with him

for her affection. She left them both

to get away to save herself

but told her son she would come for him

and she did and they became meshed as one

neither one able to form their own life

until now... and in death it is done. 

Diana

Life filled with expectations

met with some disappointments

 seeking comfort in family

anticipating the future

the highlight of her life; her son, Wesley.

the babies grow and life goes on. 

May she rest in peace. 

Random Shots

Playing the Piano

I learned to play the piano at twelve
rather I learned to read notes
and find them on the keyboard

never found the music though
always mechanical and stilted.
Somewhere the music lives

and is discovered by a genius
who feels it in her bones
and hears it in the wind.

The notes on the scale
are a way for others to enjoy it
and to recreate it for all time.

Some will give it wings, while others,
like me, will make it ping, ping, ping,
like a broken machine in a factory.

Knee Pain

After years of genuflecting
prayer on bent knees
walking for miles to and from church
and the reward for all that devotion
is a purgatory of painful knees. 

I try to trace back to the sin
that leads to bone spurs and tattered
meniscus too much running around
not enough meditation and bonding
to the people in my life. 

Maybe it is a simple answer not a spiritual
consequence. Machines wear down
bodies are machines so…

they wear down, some faster
than others. No magic pill or surgery
but lots of memories of a lifetime 
of hiking trails, housework, and prayers. 

Reconciliation With Death

She didn’t cry when her mother died
maybe she was too young

or pain from all those years of drinking
was too painful to remember for long.

She kept herself busy with school and lots of
friendships and drama. She loved a good fight
pushing loyalties to their limits, breaking up
taking herself away and then starting over.

Her awards were many 
with no one to cheer her on -
she had to prove she was worthwhile.

She realized her accomplishments
didn’t matter if deep inside was a wound
that would not heal until she went into the darkness
and grieved for the mother who died too young.

The first step was to sanctify
the memory, making her more sacred
than any life deserves. Obliterate the neglect
and abuse, minimize the scars and trauma, 

pretend it was a perfect life with a loving mother
replacing reality with better stories

to bolster her through the rest of her days.

Wash Day

Sheets flap
in the breeze

while the sun

shines throughout the day

arms on men’s shirts
reach out for women's blouses

next are rows of diapers,
socks hung in pairs,

little kids clothes
different sizes

all kicking and shaking
without any music

hung out for 
line dancing

until they are dry.

Looking Toward the Future

Look at the bundle of energy
arranged in order of age
ready to tumble into the future
and take on what the world has to offer.

The eldest had the greatest promise
he was bright and well liked
took a detour through the seminary
lost his way in Vietnam.

The second one tried to control the others
second in charge for her mother
ended up controlling a school
was grateful to retire.

The twins bounced against the boundaries
going in opposite directions he quieted 
his demons through work and alcohol
she stirred them up and teased them

now a shaman leading others through
social upheaval and spiritual purpose
maybe she’s crazy, no one is sure.

The youngest one almost lost his life at nineteen
an aneurysm should have killed him
the doctor said it was his athleticism that save him
so he still runs, swims and bikes everyday.

Each child took their own path
related to and influenced by each other
remembering the days of childhood
when they played for hours in the sun.

Creativity was the main ingredient
and the days passed into years
finding different routes to eternity.  

I Remember My Father

He was always larger than life
gone before we woke
but came home with an exhilaration
that lifted me towards him at a run.

I knew there would be fun and peace
from my mother who tended to be harsh.

He had a great capacity for love
and wasn’t afraid to show it.

He taught me how to observe
before I asked too many questions
and figure things out before I despaired.

He expected me to match his strength
and energy because I wasn’t
as pretty as my mother.

She was crazy about him too
and missed him when he 
went to work each day.

I never competed for his attention

he had enough for everyone.  

Playing Jacks

Ten steel stars and a rubber ball
carried ‘round wherever I went.
When things got dull I pulled out my bag
to play a game of Jacks.
Everyone did it young and old.

My mother was a fantastic player
moved so fast and smooth
went from ones to "tensies”
in no time flat
never missed a bounce.

I was the second best, took me
a couple of tries to get to "sixies”
from fives. A great math game
seeing combinations for ten
then sweeping up the right amount

without touching those left behind.
A simple game for simpler times
had to be nice to find others to play.
The owner of the jacks could set the rules
and then everyone took turns. 

Futile Attempt to Retain Memory

The perfect moment in time
captured in a photograph
framed and put in a prominent place
as a reminder of that memory

for all time...but...

photos and memories fade.

Writing In Ink

Sister Devine said to use pen instead 

of pencil because it made you think
before you wrote a thought down.  

Created an accuracy when you knew
the mark was permanent and couldn’t be erased,
corrected or removed, much like original sin.

So like women in the religious orders
exacting consequences for minor offenses.
holding everyone they met to a higher standard
and making them suffer when they failed.

Oh bless you sweet sisters, for all the lessons
in frugality, temperance and sacrifice,
creating unnecessary suffering

punishing before any mistake was made.
Giving me perfect writing on linen paper,
with well scripted messages

in smooth tracks of blue ink,

carefully blotted, before it is folded,

stuffed in an envelope
and sent in the mail

now replaced with e-mail
wiping out all the hours of practice
of making things perfect in ink. 

Memory of Home

In the red-tiled single storied house
of my adulthood, there was a step
down into the living room 

a brick fireplace against the north wall
with a display of masks collected
from around the world. 

One evening while a guest visited
from Manchester we talked

about many things.

The fire burned in the fireplace,
decorative candles were arranged
on the mantel to add lighting.

Our visitor, asked about the type

of wood we were burning.

I answered in was pine
purchased at the grocery store.

She sniffed and said she thought
it had a smell of cherry wood.

We went on with our conversation
again she paused and said the smell

of cherry had become stronger.

I looked outside to see if a neighbor
was also burning wood this evening.  

When I walked back into the room
I could smell the distinct aroma.

I noticed one of the masks was smoking,
a tattooed face with a large nose
ready to burst into flame.

I grabbed the mask and doused

it with water, she blew out the candle

and we laughed until we cried.