top of page

Nights Were Brighter Then


On a hillside

We pass cheap wine

Yellowed grass

Dew soddened jeans

We trace stars slow path


In September dark

Two beauties laugh

Sweetened wine voices echo

Teen beings

Cast lighthouse beacons

Sweeps my shipwreck


We never went back

Bodies, minds not the same

Under star crawl

We fixate on given light

Novas long dead


Best you can do

Press the colored leaves

Savor aged wine

Dog Days


Murphy squats at sunrise

Sniffs the breeze while urinating

Checks to see if quail are about

He chases but never catches


The air is tolerable

Sun not yet full upon the yard

Time to dig a hole

Saliva mud cakes his nose

He rests in his trampled bed of aloe


His golden cream coat

Collects small twigs, dirt, leaves

As he rolls on his back

Tongue lolls, eyes wild


Stops, sits up, furrows his brow

Worries the heat

Will not end


But the mourning dove coos

As the garbage truck roars

Plucks with its mechanical claw

Delicacies he would tear through

Given half the chance


Bolts to the shade of the patio

Dirty nails tap the slider door

Lopes down the hallway

Slums in dark quiet

As the air conditioner hums


Smelling of worms, earth and sweat

He groans, closes his eyes

Despite summer, it’s a good life

And he knows it

One New York Summer


I coached a girls’ softball team

After games in their local dive

A player’s brother bartended

Passed free pitchers of beer


Hard drinking

First generation girls

Didn’t know when to stop

Kamikaze shots and laughter


Brenda drank too much

Leaned her head on my shoulder

We held hands, stole a kiss


Games on Wednesdays

Practice on Mondays

I caught batting practice

Gina wore tight shorts

Reveled in her exposed cheeks


It was a hot summer

Heavy air nights

I would drive home buzzed

My hand out the window

Each night sift through my fingers


My lake cottage damp

I would lie in bed

Listen to crickets and peepers,

Raccoons ferocious sex


Too hot to sleep

But it was alright

Get through work the next day

Read the paper on the couch

Until I nodded off


Young and thoughtless days

Reading news to sleep

To casually toss in trash

Like others discard on park benches

Headlines and obituaries blow away


In the girl’s hometown

Only the homeless kept yesterdays

Folio sheets on sidewalk beds

Editorials under thread bare clothes

Insulation for the waning days

bottom of page