Mystic Girl

mystic girl dressed in your gypsy clothes 

it’s a look you like

you say you can tell what the future holds

you like to be thought of as a little touched

by special powers a medium to the dead

some people don’t believe so much

think you’re a little off in the head

you sit and look into your crystal ball

tellin’ me what I should look out for

but you don’t know where you’re goin’ at all

reading palms to pay the rent

relying on your grasp of the sixth sense

your occupation is of a mystical bent

your room is filled with sweet incense

a belief in the after world and apparitions

not of this world but of another

the haunted and all kinds of superstition

you got a big belief in ESP

for fun you like to visit the cemetery

mystic girl where do you think I’ll be?

just tell me good stuff, nothin’ scary

Silver Moon

after a night of some serious drinking--

snowshoes--whiskey and schnapps very potent

friends dropping me off

I was on my knees and felt like I should say a prayer

but that would have been hypocritical of me

so my pants got dirty without religion

I leaned up against the old brown house with broken shingles

thankful to be home sweet home

couldn’t find my keys to get in

spend the night outside in the backyard in the wet grass

wasn’t fussy at that point, just wanted to go to sleep or die

under the eyes of the silver moon

just watch over me and keep me safe mr. moon

laying there I began to feel a cool mist falling on me

heal me mother earth 

pure ecstasy I was feeling 

the softness of the ground, the wetness of the rain

reinvigorated and remembered the back porch wasn’t locked

couldn’t stay in the rain ALL night

lead rubber legs jelly up the stairs seeing through a kaleidoscope 

fumbled with the door handle

there was a plaid print couch but I didn’t make it and didn’t care

laid on the plastic green indoor outdoor carpet 

next to my muddy work shoes and an old dog toy

fell asleep until I rolled over on my keys and they stabbed me

they weren’t there earlier I swear but maybe they were

I could of pulled myself off the floor with considerable effort

got in the house 

but I was drunkenly content till morning

shine through the aluminum windows and a bird tapping on the fiberglass roof 

false awakening but so beautifully true

November Day

morning yawns a frosty one this far north

calls for hot cocoa in the chipped Green Bay Packers cup

that belonged to my father

now dead for many years and buried ‘neath the frozen tundra

I remember that I didn’t shed any tears

but I had a few beers in his honor at the corner bar

cold window pane graffiti blocks my view 

of neighborhood houses with exhausted paint

and cyclone and wooden fences that make a good neighbor 

birthday coming up and I think I’ll have a surprise party 

it’ll be a surprise if anyone shows up to my house

nobody wants to come to this decaying side of town

dying city full of dying folks

heart attacks and strokes

friends moved away—escaped the rot that gnaws at you

factories almost all dormant now-rusting into their graves

jobs and prosper-i-ty now a thing of the past

I sip my cocoa under the stained glass light in the kitchen 

the one my mother always wanted and bought a long time ago

she’s dead now too—it’ll be five years in June

younger brother gone, I’m the only one left

me and Pepper my black lab who keeps me company 

and doesn’t judge me when I sometimes break down