Friday, March 18, 2011

News On A March Full Moon

Somewhere in a nearby yard a blue jay
yaks and yaks the morning quiet
way beyond the clicking news of smiles
and banks washing profits off casket walls.
Mid morning and the news reads
Sarandrea, Jessica Y., 22, Pfc, Army; Miami
First Cavalry Division. Killed in Iraq.

Marjorie Pollock is text messaging
by the organic oranges at Whole Foods.
Neal Bellenger holds a two pound
ground buffalo package in his left hand
a cell phone in his right.
The newlyweds contemplate organic cane
sugar as second ingredients in yogurt.
Daniel B. Hyde, 24 First Lieutenant, Army,
Modesto, California is dead in Iraq.

Beyond the three dollar collard greens
traffic zips and tears the afternoon.
No need to signal or cut off the competition.
It’s only three lanes and four hundred yards
to the gas station and a cheap hoagie.
A homeless man passes out a newspaper
at the traffic island. Put a little in the pot
please, and God Bless you Jeffrey Reed 23
Army Sergeant, Chesterfield, Virginia dead in Iraq.

Late afternoon stuffs the mind, wipes
pleasure off a job that may or may not
exist in a few days, or tomorrow.
Lorna Guzman, social worker for Women
in Distress hopes Day Care is taking care
Keisha wants to tell the M.D.
with 40 patients a day that
she missed another period.
She has to get home.
She has a class tonight.
Patrick De Voe, he’s dead in Afghanistan
Twenty-seven, Private First Class
from Auburn, New York.
You know where that is, but then

It’s almost dinner time and Shirley
brings in take out hot and sour, lo mein
a side of barbecued wings.
Did you hear Tiger’s back?
TVs blink the news, the news, the news.
Who did what and who said if?
She’s a democrat underneath.
How about that short horse in England?
They think it’s stuck in mud.
George Clooney may show up on ER.
You know Rush Lim and the other one
who took all the rich guy’s cash.
He’s going to plead and Jay Leno
will have his say later on.

By the way, it’s a full moon.
Look out the window at the perfect sky but
don’t forget the names whispered in the stars.
Jessica, Daniel, Jeffrey, Patrick
echo in blood, in guns, in storms.
They’re coming home.

Sunday, March 6, 2011

A Few Takes

A News FLASH spins on three local TV stations: "Monkey Loose." Station one shows us where the monkey has been, station Two shows the monkey captured in a cage and station Three shows us the empty cage where the monkey chewed its way out. A newscaster stands in front of the camera and says, "We want you to know, that we have now established a Monkey Hot Line."

I envision a chimpanzee holding a cell phone, then my mind whips to a woman I met several weeks ago, who was leaving South Florida because people are unfriendly. She sits in her packed car. An Igloo cooler rests on the passenger seat. It contains her dead parrot on dry ice. She’d like to put said parrot on a raft and float it out to sea if she can find a biodegradable raft. She is driving to Boca Raton to consult friends before continuing to Alabama which I think is not a good idea.

I remember the Terrorist Bees of Boca. A beekeeper in Deerfield Beach was reported because his bees allegedly flew two miles north to the Boca Raton Executive Airport and deposited bee droppings on planes. The camera zooms to the bee keeper, who says that bees do not fly two miles for this activity. The camera zooms to a large women who on the Boca Raton City Council. She announces, "We cannot have bees in Boca Raton. Boca Raton is a growing community."

I try to connect a monkey on the run, and the bee keeper’s with these warring honey pots in the Middle East.. New cars roll into gas stations. The front page of the Sunday New York Times boasts a photograph of a navy man hitting golf balls off the fantail of a carrier. I hear Fort Lauderdale school kids are protesting their right to wear pajamas to school because they feel more comfortable.

I must admit, "It’s a long day."