Soggy cafeteria fries

When I was young 

My parents would sometimes travel 

To visit family or friends

I would come with them on the ferry ride,

and beg for quarters to waste on the arcade machine 

Those long trips looking out at the blue horizon 

Will be ever affixed in my memories 

And the objectively terrible flavour 

(which I relished nonetheless) 

Of soggy cafeteria fries 

And congealed packet gravy 

Still lingers on my lips

pancake breakfast

From the very first time we awoke together,
I only wanted to make you pancake breakfast
Outside our window, passing every weather,
Until we, heavy lidded, fall into embrace and rest

Would I could, I'd set the timer to reverse,
Fix every burned edge and doughy hiccup
Every golden flapjack would be well rehearsed,
And laid softly to await your sweet syrup

And we, like eggs, so gently turned with butter,
Bind together, tumble over, never to burn or stick
Salt and syrup, we mingle as do enchanted lovers,
And lay down upon fluffy pads of joy and bisquick

Amid the warm memory of hazelnut coffee,
Two love-made plates are growing cold
And amid the bruise-blue spatter of berry coulis,
Is printed the message of my heart and soul:

I only wanted to make you pancake breakfast,
Until we, heavy lidded, fall into the embrace of death.

dark window

3 am, the sound of gunfire crack! crack! so loud it breaks the air pirouettes between the stark brick and stone the trees like shocked dancers caught in a twisted rictus and then after a long drawn breath, a breath drawn in so long it presses at the lungs to escape crack! a third ring of that dreaded bell she is listening by the window hesitant, cautious, but yearning to be aware there is only darkness out the window, darkness and that sickly orange glow of streetlights all is still in the cool West Broadway air but somewhere nearby a woman is crying a siren's scream swells hauntingly by and fades away into the city where it goes she can't be certain but somewhere nearby a woman is still crying