Kiss

When she kissed me

I took it as a joke.

She backed away

Eyes wide

Hands rising to her mouth

As though she was afraid

Of what I might do.

My mind raced

To determine her intention.

She had been a friend

For years

But I perceived her

As always unobtainable

So when she kissed me

I thought it was a tease

Like a bone tossed to a dog.

My heart leapt

But my brain was on fire

Feeling diminished

At the hands

(or lips)

Of a woman I’d always

Admired.

She fled the room.

The moment was gone

And never returned.

But her kiss somehow

Aged me

And I never again

Misread the intention
Behind the sweetness
Of a simple 
Kiss. 

I Have Learned

Learned Lessons 

I have learned

Love is starlight

Flared upon clay skin.

Passion is fuel

From one’s white hot

Core.

I have learned

Kings stand

In darkness

And paupers

Flaunt themselves

In light.

I have learned

Hate presents itself

As love

And coils within

Covers

Of safety.

I have learned

Wounds make room

For a man.

Scars are

Lessons written

Across flesh.

I have learned

To protect

Truth

And never forsake

What is valued

Beyond breath and blood.

Body Count

Blood smeared the walls

Splashed the tile

And saturated the clothes

Of the dead man

With his throat slit

Like a gleaming second mouth.

The sharp coppery smell

Of his blood

Filled my head

And I tried to breathe

Through my hanky.

Last week a dead man

Slumped over the wheel of his Buick

Parked in his garage.

A small crimson hole

Appeared in his right temple

But the exit wound on his left

Was the size of a plum.

Death is a rude visitor

Appearing at his pleasure.

There is no preparation possible

When his shadow darkens

A door sill.

I remember teenagers

Suspended from garage rafters

Bodies burst along railroad tracks

Each piece no larger than a basketball.

I was the first there

To comfort a screaming woman

Whose husband sat

Impaled on the shaft of an old Chevy’s

Steering column.

I tried fruitlessly to comfort

A father

Whose wife poisoned

Their four children

When a man in a Hawaiian shirt

Screamed in the parlor’s large room

That he wanted to see the children’s bodies.

My hand was on the father’s shoulder

As he melted into the carpet.

I’ve knocked on doors at midnight

To tell families

A husband, a wife

A child

Mother or father

Was never coming home.

Then, I awoke one morning

Knowing

It was over.

I could do no more.

I dry cleaned my uniform

And hung it in my closet

Still in its plastic shroud.

But I close my eyes to sleep

And count bodies

The way others count sheep.

Squint Just Right

I stood gazing into what starlight

Chicago night-glare permitted.

Only the most hardy of stars penetrated

The milky smear of urban cover.

A particular stab of light

Caught my attention.

It was directly overhead

And seemed to slowly move.

I watched it until

My neck ached.

Whether or not

It truly moved

Was uncertain.

Finally, I surrendered my curiosity

And returned to

The more stable universe

Of my kitchen.

Later, when sleep should have

Overtaken me

I lay awake

Thinking of you...

Imagining your orbit

The way you move through a life

That no longer includes me.

You and that mysterious star

Merge within my thoughts.

I imagine your movement

But can not discern

Your orbit.

But I am not a space man.

I am a mud hound

And being such

Must train myself

To avoid looking up.

It leads to frustration

And despair.

Besides

Mud is interesting, too

If you squint just right.

The Loss of a Good Man...

I just learned of the passing of a good man, former Naperville, IL, mayor, George Pradel. I served along with him when I was with the police force. Not only was George a good man, he was bright, bold, and colorful. A former Marine, his pride in the Corps, and love for his country was very real and obvious. Cancer took him from us today, and we are the less for it. I'll have to sit with this loss a bit and take some time to grieve. It's hard to say farewell to such a man. But I know where he went, and he knew he was going home. With that in view, I have not lost George. I know where he is. 

Then God Bless You

If you’ve sat where I sit

And watch cannon smoke

Diffuse through the tree branches

And grow deaf

With each fiery blast

Inhaling burnt powder

And cordite

Then God bless you.

If you’ve stood shoulder to shoulder

Fixing glittering bayonets

And wishing you were

Anywhere but here

And every cell in your body

Seeks to fly away

Far, far away

And anywhere but here

Then God bless you.

If you’ve ever wondered

Why you cannot feel the earth

Beneath your feet

And the entire bloody field

Seems to fall away

Like you’re viewing the whole battle

From some cloudy height

And all you want is

Water and time

Just time and water

Then God bless you.

If you’ve ever wondered

If your girl

Or your folks back home

Remember you

Or think of you

Whether they fear for you

And await your imminent return?

If you believe the snake that curls

Deep in your throat

Behind your tongue

Is fear

Then God bless you.

God bless you

When your bowls loose

Your stomach heaves

God bless you

When you wipe

The blood and brains

Of your friend from your face

And, at that moment caught yourself

Begging for your mother.

Yes,

God bless you, sir.

 

Come, Child (I'll Teach You to Hate)

She sat me on her

Knobby knee

Poked my belly

And said that’s where

A Yankee shot me.

I looked at my

Belly button

With a child’s shock

And examined my “wound”

Taking amazed stock.

That’s how Grammy

Taught me to hate

Soldiers wearing blue

And disdain all

They both say and do.

Her daddy was a *Rebel

And he toted

His hate forever

Passing it on to me

To lay it down never.

Soldiers in blue

Have marched far off

And never will return

But if they do

They’ll set these fields to burn.

So come, child, sit upon my knee

And I’ll teach you

How and who to hate.

It’s branded on your belly

It’s both our fortune and your fate.

*5th Mississippi Vol. Infantry, Co. C 

Sniper*

You will know it’s time

When the trigger throbs

Beneath your finger.

The walnut stock resting

In your palm

Will ache.

You will hear the muzzle

Breath’s staccato 

Hiss.

You will know its time

When your lungs

Burn like a coal furnace.

You will know it’s time

When your mark

Opens his eyes

When he sees you

And knows his tomorrows

Are over.

Then you will know

It’s time.

*I spent a little time with a law enforcement Special Response Team (SRT). Not enough to roll with them, but enough to understand what makes them shudder.

A Bit Peek-ed

You okay, pardner?

My buddy asks

Leaning over his cup

At the Dixie Café.

You look a bit peek-ed

He says

From behind his sweeping

White moustache.

He straightens

In his chair

Glancing across the room

Searching those ears

He didn’t intend listen

To his pointed query.

He misses nothing

Observes everything

Knows my life

The way he knows

The bark of his dog

Or the sputter and growl

Of his truck.

My breath comes with effort

And my cup sits cooling before me.

I cover my left hand

To disguise the absence of the ring

That once hid the

Fish belly skin below the missing gold band.

Yeah

I say.

Just got the wind knocked outta me

Is all.

Lonely

Lonely...

Is the sound of one beating heart

The smell of last night’s uncollected refuse

The sight of a single toothbrush in the holder

The touch of nothing but bedsheets against your Skin

The taste of dry toast upon your tongue.

Lonely...

Has no anthem or opus

To herald its presence

No bawdy dance

Or flashing lights

To announce entry.

Lonely...

Creeps along curbsides

And stalks within blind alleyways.

Lonely...

Has no sizzle on the griddle

No appetite or desire.

Lonely...

Offers no laughter

No camaraderie.

Lonely...

Has no melodic poetry

No soulful tunes.

Lonely...

Is the weed in the garden

And the single cloud veiling the moon.

Lonely

Simply

Is.