For Rick’s memory and Charlotte’s liveliness…
***
Coming back to the old neighborhood,
I sit in the late afternoon sun…
on the front porch of another reality.
My tan is fading.
***
A dark-haired woman in the building across the street…
takes off her blouse and…
presses impressive breasts against the window pane.
All I can see at this distance
are plump white pillows
mounted with chocolate mints;
should taste as sweet,
under a glass display case.
Far out of reach.
***
Next door, Mexican laborers chip cracking faded paint layers goodbye
off overpriced condos
and serenade strolling lesbian grandmothers
in granite crewcuts and plaid shirts,
serenade them shouting foreign words
full of familiar meanings.
And the women pretend not to hear.
***
My other dog died.
Now I am housesitting for a cat who won’t.
A long story, I’m afraid. The same old sad tale.
You’ve probably already heard it.
***
There’s nowhere to park.