Best Slacks Poems

“we look for that that does not come and go
it cannot be organic form, subject to decay 
thoughts and beliefs are fickle, how little we know
yet come what may, our inner child continues to play”


The 'umbilical cord', 
hereby symbolic, 
its severance
where
initiated,
a soul of three,
and then...

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Five miles of neatly spaced suckered palm planted 
Bustling promenade,
Not withstanding a provincial cafe-culture 
Of restaurants and exciting little bars,
Enhance upon regal elegance of the crammed hotels
Regency period style facades;
Their fashionable shadows slowly lifting and slowly falling
Across the lines of deferentially, slowly moving cars.

Trundling on...

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My room at the Hyatt 
Smelled like my ex-wife
She didn't have oodles of class
Or wasn't overly fancy
So, it must be that aroma of 
Almost masking what had
Taken place the night before
We greeted each other with
A welcoming suspicion 
The bathroom lighting flawless 
Standing in the mirror...

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In my global village, Oxy, where folks live all alone,
There’s lots of open secrets, for secrets are well-known!

Fairly dark alien residents live with us above ground.
A dull roar or deafening silence you hear when they’re around.

In mobile homes, alone together, some big babies live,
hanging out...

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I have inside my wardrobe many clothes
composed of dresses, blouses, slacks and tops,
and as the number of these items grows,
so does my footwear. Lord, it never stops!

I’m not too good at throwing stuff away
except for things from when I was size nine!
So I can change...

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Passages trail the utter existence
along brick faced wanderings
with puddles reflecting death
in the vast wasteland that calls
from bled out dreams

I listen to the footsteps,
eager to please, left by the curb
beneath graffiti warnings
in spray painted quotes
dripping with ease and intent

Their cadence sends 
splashing ripples onto 
nicely pressed...

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The smallest, most annoying pest,
Seeks the heartbeat of your breast, 
In search of where to build its nest,
Bites you, and forgets the rest. 

It's venom starts to flow within,
The earth beneath begins to spin,
You fail to suppress an arcane grin,
And know this fluster must be...

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The scent of linen,
Slacks, creams, leather. Mellow tunes.
Soft muted bustle.

	We move promptly to our quest.
	In the purse, Mom’s hard won cash.
 ~
The shoe department...
Always with my size and style.
The well-groomed salesman,

	His warm charm sooths my unease
	At the cold chrome size device.
  ~
Brylcreem, tweed, Old...

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Many a poet I know a fool
acting like they know-it-all
many a poet I know a tool
acting like "Mr Poet-all" 
unknowingly showing me 
their knowledge of poetry
has boundaries surrounding
ideas rebounding around 
their impounded grounds 
only seeing the same repeatedly 
nothing new unfortunately 
forever under lock and...

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Irene....My Mother and I.

I cannot believe I am her daughter!
She always dressed in the very best taste.
Very little jewelry, conservative
dresses, no slacks, are you kidding?
A white-gloved perfect lady,she.

Hats she wore yes, exquisite ones.
Never a babushka on her coiffure.
Boots,too, my Mother loathed,
In those years, verily homely...

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All About Japan

A feather plummets slacks downwards,
a sparrowhawk caught prey soars upwards,

bonsai trees grow its shadow midst sunrise,
cherry blossoms shade a path,
sugis eclipse a shrine,

maguro (tuna) swims the deep ocean,
unagi (eel) curves nearby Mount Fuji,
tako (octopus) struts whilst in motion,
fugu (pufferfish) deadly still, yummy,

pink perianths...

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Weekends her prince was distant and she missed him,
She had come to love his presence.

His handsomeness was like a glass of champagne,
Seldom had but delectable to the touch.

She loved his fashions a checkered shirt and a beautiful royal mauve shirt,
Slacks that fitted his slim figure.

Loved...

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When I was just a teenage lad, and growing up out west
I never wore a cowboy hat or fancy leather vests,
never put on cowboy boots or western shirts with snaps,
never wore tooled leather belts, much less a pair of chaps.

To be in style the Ivy...

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Alone together, we enjoy our time
   and mostly we act naturally well.
We can be seriously funny too,
   but deafening silence is hard to quell.

Found missing sometimes, a minor crisis of
   impossible solutions that are made,
like eating tasty, tender jumbo...

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A warm, glowing September night.
Nondescript small town bar with
people enjoying fine company and revelry.
College football game just finished.
We won!
Some friends find a table and 
a deck of cards. Pinochle.
Smiling, joy, and laughter. Lively conversation.
Good will and companionship hold sway.
"A dollar a game?"

'Saturday Night Live' on...

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