Photo by Michelle Kunert, Sacramento
—Paul Lojeski, Port Jefferson, NY
Envy is my best friend.
She laughs in my ear,
tugs at my heart,
pulls me under big,
blue waves.
Look at his gold teeth
his halo of pearls, she
coos. Hear the crowd
call his name and lust
drag him down.
She makes my heart
ache, tells me to covet
till it hurts, till pain
becomes joy. She
teaches and cares,
my envy, my shelter
and warmth, my best
friend.
____________________
WHEN I'M SIXTY-FOUR
—Paul Lojeski
Well, today I’m 64.
When I was 20, living
in a little house in Oberlin,
I played When I’m Sixty-
Four the day Pepper
came out and I was
high and there was war,
of course, and injustice,
naturally, and my youth,
coincidently, and that
house rocked as we all
sang along, wondering
what the hell sixty-four
was. Well, today I’m
64 and now I know,
now I don’t have to play
that damn song anymore.
___________________
RETIREMENT
—Paul Lojeski
For years, the old man wrote letters to the worlds’ most famous
newspaper. Mostly about economics and the failure of policies,
they were never published. He’d call family and read them, his
voice booming and righteous, the pain of rejection flaring over
the line. How could he be so ignored? Isn’t my analysis correct?
No answer assuaged his rage. He’d sit in that desert house at
the table piled high with letters, staring at the blue sky for
weeks, while others played golf or wove baskets and, then,
another idea would hit and he’d begin writing again with a true
and steady hand. He couldn’t help himself. It was all he had.
They had to see he was worthy, that he was one of them.
Before I die, he thought. Before I die.
_________________
ALCOHOL WAS OUR BEST IDEA
—Paul Lojeski
I heard the sirens last
night. Seems there're
always more in the dark.
Fleets of cars crashed,
a guy gunned down
his family, a neighbor
plugged a neighbor over
some wandering roses
and on it went till dawn
rescued the rest of us.
Funny how we're
always going on about
the beauty of life while
working so hard to end it.
Drink?
____________________
2/23/2011
—Paul Lojeski
I’m reading William Stafford,
listening to Trixie Whitley sing,
I wanna live where love lives.
My daughter’s on the couch,
eating a sandwich and Seinfeld’s
on TV. My last breath’s outside,
playing with the children next
door, sure I don’t know it’s
there but I’ve seen it coming
for a long time, that and the sun
gone black in the blink-of-an-eye.
You understand?
____________________
Today's LittleNip:
When you're through changing, you're through.
—Bruce Barton
____________________
—Medusa (with kudos to Stephen Colbert for reading poetry on last night's show with Caroline Kennedy to promote the new anthology she has edited, She Walks in Beauty. See www.colbertnation.com/full-episodes/thu-april-14-2011-caroline-kennedy for the complete show; their moments together are at the end. Poetry on TV? Yikes—what a concept!)
D.R. Wagner and his daughter, Annalesa, at
The Book Collector for the Rattlesnake Birthday Bash.
That's Maggie Frost in the background.
—Photo by Katy Brown, Davis
