Wednesday, April 24, 2013

movie dream #865

where:   a street corner in Hoboken, a two story brick building with a pizzeria downstairs and a walk-up apartment upstairs.

when: the early 1990s

who: me, Aidan Quinn, some firemen, the pizza man

i was late, i took the subway, but i was still late, but i had remembered to wear a pretty dress because he said we were going to go out for dinner instead of going downstairs for pizza again and as i was making my way up the stairs to the street i heard sirens, which i didn't think much about, but somebody up on the street yelled down to a guy that was just getting through the turnstile that Danny's was on fire.

so, i started running and when i got there everything was black smoke and the fireman were telling him to jump and there were flames shooting from all the windows of his apartment and some cop told me to stay back, "that's my boyfriend up there," i said.

"i don't care if it's the Pope lady, stay back!"

and so i watched as he crawled out the window over the D in Danny's that was usually lit up in blue neon but it was sort of hanging and busted and everything was covered in black soot including him and he had nothing on but a pair of shorts and the fireman got him to the sidewalk and he was coughing up all this black stuff and the pizza man who was never named Danny kept yelling, "Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Jesus Mary and Joseph, Jesus Mary and Joseph!"

The firemen took him across the street and deposited him on a bench and that's when I went over and I thought the cascades of water from the firetrucks over the black thick clouds of smoke was pretty nice, but it hit me that he was going to have to come live with me now, "Hey! you're here!" he said and he coughed and i sat down on the bench real close to him and put my face against his wet sooty face, "they didn't even give you a blanket," i said.
"you're going to have to live with me now, aren't you?"
"for a while, yeah." and he flipped something back a forth in his hand and it was a big ziplock bag covered in soot and filled with small toy trains.
"your trains!"
"yeah, they're all gone . . . "

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

a goose standing on one leg . . .

sometimes i feel like a goose standing on one leg by the side of the road, but near enough to a pond that i could swim if i chose to, but i would have to cross the railroad tracks to get there, and that seems like an awful lot of work, so i might as well stay here, by the road and if a car ruffles my feathers, so be it, and maybe, just maybe someone will toss a half eaten cheese sandwich out the window and what a bit of luck that would be, white bread and yellow cheese and a schmear of Miracle Whip, i would have to put my foot down for that kind of fortune, but here i am in the meantime, stretching and unstretching my neck, unbudged by the cloud that momentarily blocks the sun.

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Monday, April 15, 2013

Movie Dream #932

where: Del Mar on a rainy day

who: me and Tony Curtis

so i got to the races late, but before i went to the windows, i decided i needed a coke, with ice, so i run up the silver stairs to the Jimmy Durante Diner, and there he is, spinning on his stool, in a new shark skin suit that sets off the white of his teeth and the pomade in his hair, "c'mere, c'mere," and i go to him, and he puts a hand on my hip, and i see the half eaten cheese sandwich, he never eats the whole thing, and the empty glass with the ice melted in the bottom, and the cigarette balanced on the edge of the sandwich plate not smoking, but there's a red spark buried deep in the ash and i'm drawn to that spark, "you gotta horse for me today?"
"i dunno, i needa coke . . . "

and then we're in the grandstand and the rain is coming down hard, so hard it's making all the horses look the same, just wet and miserable, with their heads down, their chins to their chests, their ears flat, but one horse breaks away from his pony, and there's all this commotion and Tony says, "look at this, look at this!" and the loose horse savages another horse, the 10 horse, my horse, and he kicks the loose horse, and the railbirds go wild, everybody's fighting in the rain.

Friday, April 12, 2013

The Fall of Troy

this won’t do at all
to lose the poet
on the day the red buds bloomed
with the dogwoods only halfway here
the bluets tremble in the cemetery
and the river rose beneath the first thunderstorm
no, this won’t do at all

for Hillsborough's Poet Laureate Mike Troy . . .