benjamin brought me his mothers' tamales again

(vegie)
a teacher friend
warned me
they might be poisoned
(o well)
but i just ate them
for  din-din
(with brown rice)
if it's a sin sin,
so be it,
my tongue bumps be dancin'
(and dancin')
to the rhythm of endorphins
to the remains
of black green peppers skin
(like dolphins)
to the seeds of black green peppers
o dolphins
i say gracias to benjamin's
mama again

is teachers sposedta be

edukrats o teknokrats?
burokrats o dis o dat?
and what the hell iz triganamatree?
to u n me?
howzabout apr on my credit card?
and late fees?
and this unemployment rate?
what did she say when she was teachin bout fate?
during baywulf?

in the spirit of jesus, rosa

cooks easter feasts for her children.
she cooks easter feasts for her grandchildren.
and drops off leftovers to next door neighbors.

we're one of them.
john, the retired truckdriver, is
the other.

today, she dropped off chicken and
arroz con gandules.
her red rice was decorated with flecks of pork.
she also brought potato salad with
fresh bacon bits on top.
she knows i'm a vegetarian.
she knew i was at work.
so she spoke with karla about family stuff.

one day i want to bring her and ramon
a tupperware bowl filled with my stir fry.
vegetarian.  tofu.  gluten free.

one day i want to watch a
cubs game with ramon.  and john.
john, ramon, and me.
80, 70, 40.
ish.
and invite chris, too.  next door.
30.
4 houses in a row.
pole, jew, puerto rican, i don't know.
chicago.

lake michigan and litter

on a near warm easter
where the sounds of the wind
meets the dogs in the water
and the sand in your eyes
meets muslim women faces
covered in cotton
brown hair/arms
covered in brown
legs/feet covered in cotton
is it cotton?

lake michigan and plastic
bags flying near
faces flying better
than girls' kites
with their fathers
near montrose beach
on top of that hill
just south of that
skateboarders' pit where the
boys learn to fly
with their wheels
without helmets
with no fear to d i

e.     lake michigan and skateboards
where we parked
is now cold
is now cold grey and raining
and the winds are still blowing
rain in our eyes
easter chicago
twenty
ten.

once upon a time

my guitar playin was good.
now i doesn't sound
like it think i should.
old strings?
no sing.
dead rust?
red dust.
the look
the sound
all around around
is dead.
in my head.
in my head head.
and my fingers
they ain't no more singers
like they could be.
or they was.
was was.
but they keep tryin.
some
     times.
frustratedly ever
after.

five catholic girls

wearing the same grey t-shirts
walked up our front porch
on today, good friday,
as this good jew sipped coffee.
are you catholic?
one asked me.
no, i smiled.
is there something we can pray for you on sunday?
i thought about it. 
would my rabbi kill me?
what about god?
i didn't want to hurt the girls' feelings.
how about my good health? i said.
they smiled.  what's your name?
i told them then they walked next door.

maybe i'll pray for them, too.
tonight.  in hebrew. 

72 hours of phoenix

brought us
mom and dad
lots of food
a cubs game
gluten free pizza
cacti cacti
hiking near rattlers
mlb cable
precious dvd
kasha on passover but
not a seder
lots of food
gluten free beer
i'm having one now back home in chicago
mom and dad who are happy as hell
and let's hope we have a house and money and lots of
friends and things to do in
our seventh
decade like
they do
lots of walking
and it's almost midnight now
so i'm
done.