obsolescence, left eye pressure
another night sprawled on the worn desk top
the pleasure of freedom and two fisted appeal
seeping away these last 40 years
in days past a woman would wake me
afraid, needing a stiff spine and a steady gun hand
I would've drawn my hands through my thick hair
and sleepily, squint-eyed assessed her, drank
a 12 hour old coffee and bourbon and eased
her fear with steel and gun-metal eyes
with the flip of cosmic switch
no femme fatales left and a bald pate

In deepest winter yet I walk
among my friends now all stripped bare
as time continues its slow stalk,
that lone hunter we all share,
but he's forgotten on this day.

For I've come here to escape time
as chill winds toss scant clouds about
and outlines puddles with thin rime
in low spots all along my route,
a logging road of frozen clay.

Until I find a favorite spot
a low bluff over middling stream
a place I think by most forgot
a perfect place to sit and dream
to listen to the pine trees sway.

I try not to go down memory lane.
The packages there,
I don't want to open them.
It's not like Xmas, when the joy
is seeing joy and it's multiplication.

What hurts is not me.
Behind regrets and hatred
is that silence where no 'other'
is remembered; no 'other'
niggles me with pain.

I lie still and try to be calm,
to rest as if floating
and when the buzz saw outside
intrudes, it's only the builder
next door, making something new.

Listen to the silence
Waiting for the key
My ear is tuned to hear you
Your’s to hearing me

Your step is light, most quiet
My eye searching all around
I hear your comfort-voice
Heart-volume at full pound

Work all day anticipating
It doesn’t matter what you say
Zoning out, no content
I’ve been waiting all the day

Home at last from all the horror
The killing and the death
Cheating, lying scum
It stinks, I hold my breath