Hard bright currency

The pressure of them ignoring you 

is like them standing on 

the electric cord to your light bulb. 

And if that doesn't make you 

so much the brighter (all that crimped, RED wattage), 
it’ll electrocute them right to the assbone; 

them - standing on your cord

like that. 

Which was never nice of them,

anyway.

The end of capitalism in 
10 seconds 

“There's no such thing as a free lunch!” he said, 

with a face like an electrocardiogram, 

before the morgue run. 

“Well, if that’s how you want to live, go on,” we said,

with a face like Christmas morning candlelight

at the top of the stairs. 

On a (mile) higher plane 

Really out of breath, in heaven, or anyway 

30,000 feet closer to it 

the two sit back down in their seats. 

Beaming. Tingling. Smiling. Sex in the bathroom; 

the high consciousness of the Mile High Club

just got higher. 

The man, Zorro, says to her, Emmeline Pankhurst

(these are the names they gave themselves as

strangers meeting in the airport bar), 

“I feel so open and generous 

and humane after making love 

like that. Even if it is on aluminum 

and mirrors over blue water. Can I say

something, Emmeline? I want to tell you something.”

She smiles him: go on. 

“Watching the Broncos game back there in the airport

bar, I thought: making those women do that

cheerleading is sexist! And cold. But look here -

I'm not against an ostentatious display of skin.

And I'm not a puritan, believe me, I'm a hedonist,
and I say: what about men as cheerleaders, too?” 

“I was hoping you'd say something like that,”

says Pankhurst.  “I thought you were a good guy, 
back at the bar.”

“Well, can I say it simply, no nuance, no stalling? 

I'm sick to the gills of sexism. Anyway, I know 

there are women - men too - who'd love to see men 

out there undulating to a touchdown. I think the pilot

of this jet would. He gave me that look, I think.”

“This look?” Emmeline turns to Zorro; her eyes

roll still, into sharp focus; green diamonds in a stream.

“Yes, that one. Like this one,” says Zorro; his eyes like

warm chestnuts, roasting on an open … you know. 

“So, Zorro, shall we repair to the Room of Blue Waters?” 

The jet, contageous with generosity and humanity 

goes above 30,000 feet to 60,000, and then into orbit;

everybody smiling

free drinks

stars in their eyes. 

Aw come on, try to love me

Here I am, in the holidays, my favorites

with the red and green and blue lights 

and papers and presents; listening to this 

music again, Burl and Bing and Enya again;

calling up that cozy-candled night out of
the past (remembering it wrong) and

beating the cozy drum 

one more time for the future 

or a peaceful right now, but 

sometimes

sentimentality aside

like - way over there

my family ain’t worth the paper

they’re written on. 

Anyone got a match?

Legend in my own mind 

They say it like it’s a bad thing

and accuse me, but yes -

I am. Aren't you? Better a legend
in your own mind than in someone else's. 

Inside me it’s as big as the whole universe

and the other one, put together
maybe bigger! 

Most people's souls now 
are the size of the Apple Store
or the nursing home gift shop 
or the family photo album
or the decor of the waiting room 

at Jiffy Lube. But it's no good 

getting mean about it like this. 

When they were born their soul 
wasn't in the Jiffy Lube, yet. Anyway, 
anyone can enlarge their soul. 

As long as they don’t try it 

at the drive-thru window. 

It takes time to make a legend. 
Take it from me. 

[ Hold on. Did you hear that?                  Let's 
be quiet a minute, I thought I heard 
something.                 It really is big in here … ]

On a higher plane

( Flight 59 )

The jet banked hard, almost sideways
almost upside down, over the Rocky Mountains

avoiding, the pilot said (he would know), a bank 
of clouds full of snow up ahead. Speaking of banks, 
the man across the aisle to the right looked like 
he ran one, or maybe a chain of them. 
He pointed out my window, and opened conversation. 

“Look at those mountains,” he said. “So majestic.” 

The jet leveled off a bit, and headed into western Kansas.

“Well, I guess what you’re gonna say next is that
that plain down there is fruited,” I said. 

“Are you cynical?” 

“No. But I am 59.”

The in-flight movie ended, and a row of soldiers 

rose, stretched, and single-filed back to the bathroom. 
The banker half-rose in his seat, said hello, saluted
and thanked them.

“You gotta hand it to them, don’t you? I take
my hat off to them,” he said, after they passed. 

“Yes. And I'm glad they're alive.” 

I got more interested in the weave of fabric 
on the seat back in front of me, than Kansas. 
I felt the banker looking at the side of my head;
he would say some more.

“They deserve our thanks. Our gratitude,” he said. 
“We need to honor their sacrifice.”

“Ok, I agree.”

“They are defending our freedoms.”

“Oh come on. You know better than that. Those guys 

never even met my mother.” 

The jet banked hard left, under the weight of the banker. 

bang bang boring 

MEN, guns
MEN, guns, in charge 

MEN, guns, in charge add money
( get in a ) LATHER, RINSE ( off the blood ), REPEAT.

Nothing’s gonna change. 

Unless; if just one of these guys would get a sense of humor. 

Add love.