The styptic pencil of the mind having written,

in blood, moves on, becomes a hand, opens wide,

slaps the mind in its face, then squeezes tightly

into a fist of mystery.

You try to unclench it and reveal its wonders.

But it won’t be unclenched, so you

wander in search of fulfillment or doughnuts,

whichever comes first. But the nearness of Park 

Pizza woos you away and you enter its environs

with bliss and fortitude on your mind.

The proprietor has only one eye.  You assume his

name is Tony.  He is fat and bald and wears a

filthy apron. Beyond the one rickety table, a cat 

plays with a rubber ball.  You recognize that ball.

Or so you think.  It is the one with which Bobby and 

Ritchie and you played stickball on a dead end street in

Jersey City.  Or is it?  Things are cloudy now.  It begins to

pour rain outside as a beautiful woman in a slit yellow

raincoat reveals some leg on entering the pizzeria.

You smile, she smiles, and tells you her car has

hit a mailbox and is no longer drivable.

Before you can speak, Tony takes her to the back

room, where you cannot see them but hear sounds

of mad, passionate lovemaking. 

Smoke and the smell of burning pizza emanate from

the oven.  You fear an explosion

 You rush out, cutting your face on the mezuzah hanging

on the door.  If only you could get back that styptic 

pencil of the mind.  But the hand that holds it

is clenched tight in a fist.

A presumptuous chlamydia overtakes me, sends me spinning, whirls me into your arms, when all you are, cantankerous nap chick, enfolds me in your simmering stuff!   Give me more when all I ask for is you, and all you do is sock me the rapturous tenderloin and wow it to the end of the earth. 

The paladins of dead kings

shore up crumbling fortresses

in a maelstrom of doubt and change

unleashed on a discomfited elite

by an immutable wave

of the deplorables,

“the great unwashed”,

the rabble,


Go search out and find

the dreams you left behind

when the time came to scratch out

a living, and pay the bills for the lifestyle

you chose instead of following 

the dreams that called you

like sirens in the sea.

But now it is time

to hug and kiss

those patient dreams

which have never

deserted you.

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