Poems
Autumn Sketches
What the Dog Walkers Said
Hoboken’s like a cult
they sit in their cubicles all day
working working working
then they turn into werewolves
Thursday and Friday night
It’s crazy they sure like to party
Wonder how they vote?
Late
On my walk today
I noticed a new Halloween superstore
on the site of what had been Modells.
I wanted to go in but as I got closer
I realized today is November 5
and the store is dark.
Power
In this season of discontinence
I have discovered new powers
I can walk as far as my bladder allows
the soccer field
the boat house
the train station
the financial center
Sinatra Park
between two cars
on a deserted
west side street.
Branding
A line in front of CityMD snakes
Around the corner
50 feet away a group of maskless men
crowd around a sidewalk tv
as the Jets lose once again
Across the street in front of McDonalds
a homeless man waits
with empty paper cup
in outstretched hand
the Trump motorcade
drives down Washington Street
horns blaring
flags waving.
Joy
Self-imposed rules of poetry be damned
I feel joy
though I wish my sister Carol
was alive for the election results,
to see the dancing in the streets
the banging of pots and pans.
Caroline and I stumble through
town drunk on noontime champagne
in this uncanny November sun.
Report from My Son
The bagel line was long
Jesus was out begging for change
everyone looked hungover
just another Hoboken Sunday.