He stood alone
beneath the broken old
street light.
Tired pavement
crumbling beneath his boots.

Glancing around
checking his watch.
Time was ticking
he didn't want to miss out.

Out of the darkness
she came on noiseless feet,
it's me you seek

Stunned momentarily
by her appearance,
he quickly recovered
back to business at hand

There were assholes
to deal with
no time for introductions
Killer didn't want to miss the chance

Night scraped it's knees on wet pavement
leaving smears of blood neon-red

Ebony tree arms were reaching out
while the street-lights shone overhead

Darkness lay down on the grass
and covered itself with the dew

The stars peeped out from the sky
where they had lain, hidden with blue

Sounds and colors are muted
A different scene unfolding it seems

The night people are waking from slumber
while day ones are dreaming their dreams

(This little ditty was written in 1993 at the closing of Sears Outlet Store #1440. I served at that time as the clerk in charge of “mark outs”, thereby responsible for every broken piece of merchandise that must be eliminated. This is the earliest poem I wrote still in my possession. I have changed nothing from the original first and only draft.)

Day Out

Sheep white against the deep greens.
And waterfalls
like painters’ mistakes
cascading in milky, mile long lines.

Half finished towns
crouch too close to the road, ramshackled wood
painted bright colours or stained deep red.
Mapuche ride horses, ponchos grubby from work,
stray dogs lick puddles and I practice my Spanish,
rehearsing words.. parade, estaciones.

A winding road of black broken rock
up to hill-billy farms;
rabbits, goats graze and horses
lean out to look us over.