SMALL TALK #1

At the New York Diner
in Watertown, Massachusetts,
I take a stool at the brown formica counter.

Behind me,
a little girl
in a booth
joyfully singing
happy birthday
to Santa Claus,

_Happy birthday to you
_Happy birthday to you
_Happy birthday dear Santa
_Happy birthday to you

I order bacon and eggs.

An old man,
upright with glasses,
maybe sixty, takes the stool next to me.

"You like baseball kid?" he says
not looking at me.
"I like to fuck." I say
not looking at him.
"Me too." He says
not looking at me
raising a cup of coffee
to his mouth.

THE SECOND THIRD

On a blue Saturday
In Montana's November
A thick thighed halfback
Made his last end run:
No yards were gained.

Thus he matter of factly
Left the field, picked up a book
And began to read
Faithfully avoiding the classics
So as to be forthright to hisself.

AERODELIRIA

listened to doubt
in a dream--woke
and spoke for hours

emamored of
easy faced reality

stepped through
its chance door

sat down,
stunned by possibility

kicked around
in autumn

consulted gold & orange
& red leaves

they said
ok to change

hear a music of chance
--a music of
infinate affinity

HERE IS HER

This room
is much
like childhood.

Her,
here--with me
--is love.

The dark
gives
quiet laughs.

She smiles
the smile.
Kisses me

hard on the
cheek. I say,
"Yes!"

Such excitement
--just a
beautiful thing.