the coffee scoop

It’s ordinary…

mundane, absolutely nothing special.

Part of a set that was purchased in the late 80’s

or early nineties would be my guess.

This brown, plastic 1/8 cup scoop

that came to symbolize our every morning

spent sharing coffee

no matter if we were 12 inches

or 1,200 miles apart. We always had coffee.

It is special because he sent it to me

in a care package when I was aching for him.

I still ache for him,

so it’s my coffee scoop until my dying day.

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

you can make a daisy

You, insidious creature,
tell me how the fuck is it
you can make a daisy

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

trenton makes, the world takes

makesbridgeit was my fifteenth hour
headed north
on the cardinal route
a leaving delaware delirium
resting uncomfortably
in the lack of a sleeping car

back when jersey still had a shore

the train tracks were skimming us
toward a crashing nighttime death
in the black atlantic

sharks approach silently with their teeth

out the window
my eyes found
an iron bound
bridge glaring back at me
stretching the width of the garden state
wearing a red neon garter
as a sign

“Trenton makes, the world takes…”

and i knew then
all was lost

it was the september
of not wanting
to know more

poetry Uncategorized

two bedroom fish bowl with an ocean view

he sits back all kerouac
trying to seem like a bigger fish
his neurosis wants me to see a piranha
but i’ve swum his dirty tank
tried to filter his polluted waters
and i know
he’s all crappy