The Pink Ticket

A playground of many muses.

The Pink Ticket - A playground of many muses.

Project 365: A Year in Words, Day 294

Rancid scent of money cologne
rolls off the air; my stomach
knots beneath burning eyes
scanning the line ahead of me…
I spot him in jeans too crisp
to pull off the I’m-casual-like-you
look. But mostly, the shoes
give him away… every time.
Easy flirtations pass over
the counter… demeaning
yet flattering–a gift the vulture
possesses as it watches the prey
investing only limited time,
limited energy to secure
his win: people, money, souls.
I know him well, they’re all the same
lauded for pecuniary prowesses
the Joker disguised as Batman:
none of them know what any of it is worth.

Project 365: A Year in Words, Day 293

Sunshine sparkles through the trees
hitting the water in a piano symphony
reverberating off the thick rocky shore…
harmony on the hiking trail until
that one guy, just meters ahead
standing against a tree, marking
his territory, unaware, or unconcerned
by the heavy foot traffic (and the public
restrooms three minutes away);
strange admiration that he didn’t even
try to find a tree off the path, just
took a step to the side; shake and zip
walk away as if no one just caught glimpse.

Project 365: A Year in Words, Day 292

they were burned–the witches
though some survived
looking nothing of our photos;
fire and centuries take that toll,
liberally.
smarter men have kept silent,
gone about their paths and others,
they must prove–something
“It’s in your blood,” they proclaim
slowly, with pride;
“Like dust,” I say…
heavy and red and thick with story.

Project 365: A Year in Words, Day 290

Some days, I’ll take what I can get–
mangled by tires unrelenting as anything,
the early dark evening, so swampy
headlamps barely move the murk
and these cobbled thoughts which
cannot make words searching
for a truth one might compare
to a cookie smuggled in a theater
and big SUVs that cross the white,
empty parking lot lines.
Watching it all unfold from my car
as I devour the tofu of indeterminate
age scavenged from a bodega salad bar.

Project 365: A Year in Words, Day 287

There sits next to me at my night-
side table, a smallish-sized book
of dysfunctions–a journal presented
me to document all my peculiarities;
neuroses and such.  It’s highly
fascinating a gift to receive
touting all its assumptive pretense.
Though I greatly admire the orange
of its cover, the feel of its paper…
it has managed to stay free of my pen
and remains luxuriously empty.

Project 365: A Year in Words, Day 286

The Chanel stains but doesn’t smear
like mascara in a rain storm; ask
any bartender cleaning martini glasses.

Gabriel played on the classic rock station
this afternoon. For a moment I was with you
again in that one fleeting moment and it
caught the air in my throat; stinging
at the memory murmuring from my lips
at 40 miles per hour in a 25.