NO TIP TONIGHT

Seven P.M. Thursday,
Italian Bistro, three ladies
and too much Chianti.
They act like old tigress's
who've found a zebra foal
and can't decide between
mothering it or eating it.
From the back of the cab one says
to me will I give a free ride if she flashes me,
lifts her blouse
in all her shrunken drooping glory.
I'm sorry, Ma'am, that won't even cover the tip.
She laughs so hard her teeth fall out.
As she leaves the cab, her claws
drag softly across the back of my neck.

Happy new year. Champagne, party flavors, kisses with plenty o' tongue.
Be happy, healthy, have fun.

The season

Armand, another eggnog here, heavy on the rum.
For the ones who are alone tonight,I will remember you.
To those put away, put down, put up, I remember.
Those of you on the road, far from home, I will remember.
Those with family scattered far and wide, I remember.
You in the shelters, the wards, the cells, I remember you, too.
Those at sea, in the air, in harms way, I remember.
To those lost in their own inner wilderness's I will remember.
You who are pursued by old familiar demons, I remember.
And to you, whoever you are, who are right where you want to be,
remember all of us.

Armand, a round for the house on me.

...and the music of the stars
still stream though the lit night
a Capella, like a kid on a corner
snapping, popping, sizzling
from a secret but free energy,
a bone and blood pulsar,
a righteous Borealis

and I ain't too old to miss
magic when it happens.
The clouds clear out,
the moon is a bright grin.
I know babies dance when they're born.
I know molecules dance, and atoms,
and mountains in slow stone time dance.

Life is bright, time is forever.
Dance like our bodies are gods.