Two 4ths

1957

Krawooosh, PARUMP, "ahhh".

Evening sky suddenly lights up with
a multitude of emerging gold stars
erupting from a point halfway up the sky;
a miniature recreation of the big bang
bringing order to the universe.

I sit with my parents
on a gentle knoll next to the local football field
surrounded by friends and neighbors,
as the high school band renders with gusto
a Sousa march.

I am a knowledgeable 8-year-old,
stuffed full of hot dogs and potato salad and baked beans,
fidgeting as a minute passes, than another,
filled with the joy of the last discharge
impatient to see the next spectacular burst.

1997

Krawoosh, Krawoosh, PARUMP, Krawoosh, PARUMP, PARUMP....

Dusk haze is shattered by explosion after explosion,
bursts within bursts crossed by streaks
crowding out the sky;
a baroque rendition of a Jackson Pollock painting
raining chaos on the universe.

I stand with my girlfriend
on a cold steel, city bridge
huddled amidst silent strangers
as a nearby radio blares a collage of
pop recordings of patriotic songs.

I am a much less knowledgeable 48-year-old,
fed but not filled on low fat, low cholesterol salad,
dazzled and dazed by the unending barrage
of whizzes and booms and salvos of color;
strangely unmoved by the spectacle.


I miss the moment in which to experience the "ahhh".

THE
BOOK BUSH

Barely four inches high
it arrived in autumn by UPS
looking nothing like the six-foot-tall
prolific plant with jade green leaves
on the midnight television infomercial
"Just $19.95. Never buy a book again!"

Placed in a cozy spot
next to an east window
watered and sprayed daily
it gradually transformed
to a content lime hue
with tiny blue sprouts.

The first bud unfurled in the spring
fourteen lines in forest green
on pale cream blossoms
an aromantic sonnet
eloquently comparing
a rose to a lost love.

Come winter the bush was a foot tall
short stories matured about one a week
a quest for a rare orchid in the Amazon jungle
the invasion of a universe spanning kudzu plant
an old man’s struggle to save an elm from a forest fire
each a corsage of adventure.

The following spring brought a novella
the last woman on earth
and her petunias
winter produced the first novel
one hundred and ten petals about
the esoteric garden of a Tibetan monk.

By summer flower novels crowded my shelves
filled my closets and covered my floor
with regretful tears in my eyes
my precious book bush in the car
I headed for the local library’s
literary flora’s greenhouse.

FORGOTTEN 
CONSTELLATIONS

Midnight on an urban bridge;
tired and anxious to be away;
yet I pause,
drawn to gaze upwards
by some all-but-lost compulsion
into the celestial canvas.

Above a deserted warehouse,
hovers the figure of the Homeless Man;
three dim stars form his fedora
pulled low across his face,
five more outline his shopping cart
pushed resolutely through the dark.

Over the central metropolis,
almost obscured by luminous haze,
two shimmering specks form the antennae
of the Middle Manager's cell-phone
as he impatiently paces
across the roofs of the city.

Dim and demure behind his left shoulder
toils the Clerical Worker;
page boy coiffured head
bent forward peering wearily
at the four bright dots
defining her computer screen.

Briefly I wonder what has become
of Orion proudly displaying his belt.
Where are brave Leo, mighty Ursa?
How have I lost the purity of Virgo
and the beauty of Andromeda?
I pull my coat tighter and walk on.

ALLEMANDE 
AT THE FLEA MARKET

Circle left

Card table orchards filled with mismatched fruit
cracked blue plastic cups flank a cut glass bowl
frail maple leaf bookends
a woodshop project
perhaps once cherished
now to be disposed of for 25 cents.

Couple promenade

"Hey, a pink flamingo lamp."
"It would clash with the couch."
"I wonder how I could use this rack."
"Fifty cents, for that?"

Circle right

Interlocking wire baskets of indeterminate use
eleven yellowed romances and a Beach Boys’ tape
three leaf rakes
arranged neatly in a row
random prongs kicked askew
miming an inept chorus line.

Dos-á-dos

"Two dollars for this vase?"
"I’ll throw in this place mat."
"I might pay one."
"One-fifty, just for you."

And all the way home.