SILENT RITUAL

Side by side
we scrub our incisors

Staring at our live
portrait in the bathroom
mirror

You spend extra time
on the left molars
tilting your head
with delight

And then the right side

I’m doing laps
with the bristles
front, side, side,
open wide for the
tops of the teeth

but I want to watch
you, want to learn
how you learned
your way

Your polishing slows,
you swish

I’m already rinsing
my brush

COMMUTERS ARE MUTE

Turned out onto Washington:
the great industrial avenue.
Busy in the morning.

Lumber yards, warehouses
of lighting fixtures
huge slabs of marble.

All the men say good morning.
Workers say good morning.
Commuters are mute.

SKY
South Philadelphia

BECAUSE THEY’D GET TOO ‘SOFT’

An accidental poem from this article.

I’ve come to believe
that a lot of people
equate

comfort
with
complacency,

calmness
with laziness.

If you’re happy,
you’re not
working         hard       enough.

You’ve stopped
striving.

comfort
Wildwood, New Jersey

DAILY OBSERVATIONS ON 18TH

Finally, peppermint crisp,
the sky is cotton-white
with a speck of platinum
light nested above
the Walgreens.

I must know every
detail of this intersection.

Wind plays with the ends
of my hair in teasing waves.

People mill about.
Cafe workers have
confusing relationships
at the table next to me.

Two cyclists with touring
bikes and fat saddle bags
go up and down the street, lost.

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