Poem of the Day 10.10.25

walking to my wife’s 12th week
of chemotherapy

we
playing

the emperor
and empress
of all maladies

the sun
hanging half-assed
in union square

and don’t you know, my dear
that god only exists

for twentysomething blondes
without a care in the world

their big tits in sports bras
and tights asses in biker shorts

jogging slowly

through these piss soaked
manhattan streets.

Poem of the Day 10.09.25

short guy syndrome at the beer and wing joint
on a sunday afternoon in august

he comes sauntering

into the center of the bar

all 4-feet 11-inches of him

bright hawaiian shirt
and cargo shorts

yankess hat pulled low

chicken neck bobbing
bug-eyes sticking out

he’s tan from a tough summer
lounging around the beach
and jerking-off to conservative tv

his woman asks him where he wants to sit

he looks at her
like she’s asked him to fuck his mom
and he says,

i dunno
any-fuckin-where

then he cases the joint
like he’s looking for a fight
even though it’s sunday afternoon
it’s just me and my wife
and a half-empty bar full of old men

he roosters around the place
like his head just got cut off

while his woman stands there
confusedly looking at empty sets of tables and chairs

finally he notices her
and says,

what in the fuck you doin?
this ain’t brain surgery
for chrissake

he cock-a-doodles over to her
grabs her arm and pulls her to a table

says,
was it that fuckin’ hard?

before they sit down
to look at the drink menu

his feet barely touching the floor

he looks like a ventriloquist’s dummy
sitting there

i can’t help but look away

before he sees me and inevitably says
what the fuck you lookin’ at, buddy?

all 4-feet 11-inches of him

and me
knowing exactly where that question
usually leads.

Poem of the Day 10.08.25

the last american tough guy?

at the job
one of them comes over
for the bathroom key
doesn’t find it and sighs

guess i’ll wait,
they say

i tell them there’s
another bathroom downstairs

yeah…but steps,
they say

i think about how i’m fifty-one
and walk five miles to work each day
just to try and keep myself in shape

i just nod and say
uh-huh

and we let it go at that

the one who spends his day
doing nothing but watching tv online

he tells me
don’t look for me here tomorrow
i need a mental health day

i think about how my wife
got diagnosed again with breast cancer in march

how neither she nor i
have slept right in months

the double mastectomy
the chemotherapy she’s trudging through

all the sick time and vacation time
that she and i have lost

i look at this little worm
and nod and say
uh-huh

i look around this place
full of teenagers
and other degenerates

who’ve wasted their summer
playing murder games online
or shooting junk in the dirty shitters here

and think about how
when i was a kid
we got thrown outside at dawn
and didn’t come back until dinner

all the fistfights and wiffle ball games
getting lost in thorn-bush filled woods

i look around
at this circus full of wimps
at pissy pants still waiting for the bathroom key
at mental health day
streaming another downloaded show

and i tell myself
you must be the last american tough guy

but no one cares about your plight old man

and i nod
and say

uh-huh
to that too.

Poem of the Day 10.07.25

the college kids

the college kids
are back in town

with their weird fruit drinks
their ten-gallon specialty coffees
and their tapioca balls hanging out

the college kids
are back in town

and everyone is calling everyone bro

the college kids
are back in town

with their asian fusion food
and meatless hamburgers

with their poke bowl philosophies

the college kids
are back in town

and some noble professor is duty bound
to write a think piece about the dangers of A.I.

the college kids
are back in town

with their biker shorts galas
and sporty gear cotillions

with their blonde coeds
who take up space in bookstores
finger fucking novels

saying, i just love books
but i don’t have time to read

the college kids
are back in town

with their business degree blues
touching grass in washington square park
vaping strawberries on broadway

and it smells like teen spirit
it smells like mommy and daddy’s money burning

the college kids
are back in town

with their venmo inheritances
their apple pay trust funds

the college kids
are back in town

and it’s autumn in new york

the leaves are falling from the trees
the sun is hiding from the daylight

the college kids

are back in town

and thanks to them  

it’s getting harder
and harder in this city

to pay for anything
with cash.

Poem of the Day 10.06.25

the tourists

the tourists
are everywhere in this fair city

eating twisty cones

and walking six deep
on the boulevard of broken dreams

the tourists
are everywhere in this fair city

clogging their arteries at food trucks
stopping to take photographs of buildings
and dudes sleeping on the street

the tourists
are everywhere in this fair city

shopping at the m&m store
at the NBA store
at the NBC store

looking in the windows of tiffany and co.
buying knock-off handbags by the dozen

the tourists
are everywhere in this fair city

carrying big bags up and down 5th avenue
pulling whiney kids through times square

the tourists
are everywhere in this fair city

with their foam statue of liberty hats
and their plastic empire states

the tourists
are everywhere in this fair city

the inbreds
and the euro trash

posing for selfies on the brooklyn bridge
going the wrong way on the D train
joining the protests in union square
and having a picnic in central park

the tourists
are everywhere in this fair city

top of the rock
never forgetting at the 9/11 memorial

the tourists
are everywhere in this fair city

their fat smiling faces sailing the hudson river
their fat asses at a disney show

their fat bodies
sweating in the gotham heat

the tourists
are everywhere in this fair city

with their pocket map hopes and dreams

and i swear

it’s enough to make a man
want to pack up all of his shit

and move

every time
the summer
comes snaking around.

Poem of the Day 10.03.25

mary’s sister

pam is a slut
mary whispered to me
in the backseat of her parent’s car

we were going to cleveland
for her nephew’s first communion

i didn’t know much about pam or sluts

i just knew about mary
and what i knew was getting tiring

pam didn’t look like a slut

she looked like someone pushing thirty
who had two kids too early
and was trying to make up for lost time

pam’s boyfriend chuck
liked to grab her ass
in front of everyone
when pam went to fetch him a beer

i liked chuck
maybe he was the slut

and pam had a fine ass

i kept looking for signs of pam’s sluttiness
the whole time we were there

but other than putting bailey’s irish in her morning coffee
i couldn’t find anything

maybe my slut-radar was off
maybe i never knew what a slut was

the morning of the communion
pam came into the room
mary and i were sleeping in

it instantly smelled of roses and daffodils

pam saw me awake
and mouthed, ssssshhhhh

before opening a closet
to look for the boy’s communion suit

pam was wearing a black see-through kimono
and her panties were thongs

she had a tattoo of a pair of lips
on her right ass cheek

that i still remember thirty years later

when she left the room
pam winked at me

and i laid there on the guest bed
thinking sluts must be as magical as unicorns
wondering if i could rub one out

until mary lifted her head from the pillow
and said to me

see what i mean?

Poem of the Day 10.02.25

watching today’s youth at the bar

the group of them
sitting there

dead silent

slack-jawed
playing on their phones

as their beers get warm

and all i can think is that one day
i’m going to have to vote

for one of these

dumb motherfuckers

for president.