...cats on Pine...

cats on Pine

need not a reminder

that we don't write

cat poems here

but we will take

photographs

of feral lifestyles,

lions in the ally

way next to Sect 8

homes who feed them

(the neighborhood

predators aren't packing tonight)

keep cool cats

keep cool

no words on film

just you and the night

and all that dissipates

into it 

...los nachos pollo...

los luchadores

flying in place

settling up to the bar

under-crossing the top

rope and deadpan

catching a wave

(afterwords

chicken nachos,

the American invention)

...plastic...

we haven't forgotten

to water the plants

nor have the dogs

gone slaking after

an empty bowl

we have done

what we have been

asked of and we have

been attentive

to each and every

need they may have

(the plants are plastic,

by the way)

...next to...

next to nothing

is not a comforting

phrase especially

if that is what

you are next to

...strolling Hoboken...

the lady in black

breaking into her own

apartment and my

instinct to help

brushed aside

by a guilty laugh

as she falls in through

window, big black back,

curtains throwing

themselves out

onto Washington Street

as I head down

to see another

women through

Maxwell's big windows

...corruption in Jersey City...

a 42 dollar ticket

a smashed and defiled

front driver side 

courtesy of the city

of Jersey City

and the street sweeper

with a grudge:

next you'll tell 

me that the university

gave my poetry class

to a full-timer.

They did? Do they

drive a street sweeper?

Thought so.