SIENA

I sit in the second
story café drinking
white wine looking down
into the giant square

a mass of people
in groups of two and three
buying small statues
replicas of the David
or the Leaning Tower

proof they’ve been somewhere

proof is in my pudding
stracciatella
frozen and delicious
milky and melting down
my throat
dragging down chocolate shavings
and the last few sips of pinot bianco

I am buzzed and tired
from a day’s worth of walking
it’s busy but so quiet and I can’t
imagine Il Palio just now

LOS ANGELES

When the sky is clear and blue
and the sun is warm, strong, wrapping itself
like a blanket round my freckled shoulders,
I stop feeling hungry.

I’m a beast,
feline,
running across the desert,
muscles rippling under my skin,
searching for Home from ocean to ocean.
I find it where the palm trees hang high over my head.
I find it atop brown mountains, dusted
with Christmas green.
I see the whole world from where I stand.

I smell salt from the coast and thick, rich, milky coffee
and I feel awake and relaxed in my green-cracked haze.
I sink into the sun,
its warm breath on my back;
the lover that never leaves,
not here in my nest
of seventy two and sunny,
where the forecast is forever.

THE ROCK

I am at one with a God
I don’t believe in or at least
it feels that way
the mountain wind rushing
around my hot ears
soothes my mammoth
temper

I am sitting on the Rock
a cliff of sorts
surrounded by sky
dusty blue and
alive

the hills below
drenched in firs

noisy campers nearby
leave me alone
but here solitude
is welcome
for once

these are not Heidi’s Alps
I just happen to be here

JERUSALEM

Golden stones soiled from centuries
of sandals trodding,
flat and smooth underfoot
as I walk down the Rova.

I stop for falafel, hot
and greasy like hoods
of shining cars parked in dusty
streets outside the Old City.

dirty, gorgeous, soaked
in the stench of freshly dyed leathers,
cow carcasses hanging from hooks
and pita with zaatar, all available

in the cramped shuk.
Loud voices negotiate
for goods instead of territories.
I buy a hookah for twenty shekels and stuff
it in my bag out of respect
for the crowds returning
From the Wall.

I DIDN'T GET ANY SLEEP LAST NIGHT

I didn't get any sleep last night.
The notion of eating disgusts me.
It's clear that my brain isn't working quite right,
But, then again, why would it be?

My heart is a muscle I can't relax.
It takes up too much space in my chest.
There's no room for breathing so my lungs just go slack.
Man, isn't depression the best?

At least this time I'm a functional nut.
At least I'm getting my work done.
At least that's one thing to be grateful for but
It's hardly what I would call fun.

Hats off to me and my success!
I'm too old now to expect any less.

I DON'T LIVE HERE ANYMORE

I don’t live here anymore.
The wooden box with the green velvet lining is empty –
I wonder what you’ll use it for,

whose trinkets you’ll someday store
in place of my costume jewelry.
I don’t live here anymore.

And the drum I bought you, though I was poor –
you never played it for me.
I wonder what you’ll use it for.

You’ll collect my hairs when you sweep the bedroom floor
and toss them, along with all our history.
I don’t live here anymore.

You’ll loan my makeup remover wipes to some drunk whore,
though you promised only I could go barefaced here.
I wonder what you’ll use her for.

You have no use for me anymore,
just for the right side of the bed’s vacancy.
I don’t live here anymore.
I wonder what you used me for.

OH, NUTS

Oh, nuts (honey roasted)
the Pakistani man sells
from a cart on Forty-ninth and Broadway,
my nose cannot resist your fragrant scent.

To eat you is nothing but disappointment.

THERE ARE NO EAGLES OR MOUNTAINS

The weight or a weapon – which is it?
Love Can Move Mountains but Love is
dirty and heavy and comes
with complications not covered in
Love Lifts Us Up Where We Belong.

There are no eagles or mountains
in Love.

There are soft, unwashed bodies draped haphazardly
in flannel sheets whispering bitter
somethings in harsh consonants and lazy,
drawn out syllables and they are just
words that sound important but mean
less than a quiet kiss given out of Guilt.

Guilt is heavy.
Guilt is a weight.
Guilt is the weapon you use
to encourage Love.