traveling man

rome new york poor boy, far from home thumb out between troy and rome pa went bust and sold the farm the world is full of woe and harm muncie indiana women in muncie have sad eyes wear blue dresses and make pies they leave them on the windowsill for passing boes to eat their fill joliet illinois the girls all laugh at the poor boys standing on the corner in joliet illinois paris tennessee the sheriff in paris tennessee doesn't care for you or me he sits in front of the courthouse wall and hardly ever moves at all waycross georgia folks drink doctor pepper and moxie and go to movies at the roxie everywhere there's lots of dust they stomp and breathe it, because they must laramie wyoming tom thought adelaide was sweet they went to the diner across the street they had coffee and pie and such she looked out the window and didn't say much sheridan wyoming there was this hippie got on the bus he didn't look like one of us had wraparound shades and a long red beard he was a cannibal, we feared elko nevada hank lies in bed in the dark motel outside the world is hot as hell pearl stands in the doorway, if you please desperately waiting for a breeze death valley the vulture in the endless sky smoothly sailing, high and dry looks down upon the rattlesnakes and scorpions in the long dead lakes end of the road seeing the sun set in the west that was the thing i liked the best and when we reached the pacific coast that was the thing i liked the most the road goes on in greyhound stations a strange light falls across the benches at night

a walk on the beach

a tiresome windbag and a crashing bore walked along a pebbled shore the windbag spoke of the meaning of life the bore of his unloving wife a seagull watched as they grew near and saw the windbag brush a tear from his pale and fluttering eye beneath the gray and cloudswept sky the seagull had no notion of the cause of the windbag's emotion but scanned the wide and desolate beach for edibles within his reach alas, alas, the windbag cried as he scanned the detritus of the tide my life its course has near run through but i have not received my due o why is humanity imbued with inexplicable ingratitude for all that i have striven why is no acknowledgement given? the bore now caught the seagull's eye like his, it was exceeding dry and seemed to wander as the windbag on his one note continued to drag the horizon showed no mighty ships but a bag of wise potato chips caught the seagull's pertinent gaze the wind had blown the bag a ways the unbroken bag contained a feast to delight a human, bird or beast a potent mix of salt and grease to fuel a creature's inner peace the windbag with the bore kept pace as raindrops began to hit their faces the wind picked up, the tide grew higher the windbag's voice did not expire they continued down the beach's curve but from their natures did not swerve each one talked, but nothing said until the sinking sun turned red the night grew dark, and damp, and cold across the waves their voices rolled the windbag swore, the bore insisted the seagull forgot that they existed

pals, part 5: no escape

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in the pitiless whirlwind of the everyday where we never know what to say and time shreds our dreams and throws them in the universe's disappearing streams sometimes a moment comes when we hear the sound of pounding drums cutting through the constant buzz like a message that ever was as henry resumed his spiel explaining what was and was not real my eyes apparently became so glazed that even henry was fazed he stared at me and then said, " i hope i'm not boring you, ben" i tried to laugh it off and with a mendacious cough i said, "of course not, henry your conversation always fascinates me" he gazed at me in silent contemplation and then resumed his dissertation on the secret causes of world war one or maybe the exact moment the universe had begun in his even voice, as always before nothing less, but maybe something more my mind and eyes kept wandering to the door as they had never done before henry, who was actually somewhat perspicacious eyed me in a manner not quite gracious suddenly he stopped his face took on the look of a good cop "i am boring you," he exclaimed. "no doubt i have only myself to blame" although i did not get down on my knees i was full of apologies "i am sorry, henry," i mumbled on my secret had he stumbled? but what was my great secret? what did i have cause to regret? my feelings were no nebulous even i would be incredulous if i tried to in words to explain what i felt about jane who still had not come through the door as i glanced at it once more now henry, following my glance looked at me askance "expecting a visitor?" his eyes into me did bore "ah, just as i thought all along the same old sorry song you are certainly not the first it happens to the best and the worst -" "please," i heard myself say "i have had a long day and your wisdom, though rigorously distilled is still a bitter pill i think i need some fresh air" and under henry's incredulous stare i slowly rose from my chair looked at the door - still no jane there and departed the premises of ray's oh how many nights and days had passed, since once immured in my seat, i had so stirred before closing time was announced in my step there was no bounce as i stepped out into the night had my old life taken flight? or was this only a blip in the steady downward course of life's trip from nothingness to nowhere into the darkness i did stare my feet i began to move as i felt it did behoove me to leave ray's behind was i losing my mind? nobody called my name the street looked just the same the yawning emptiness of the night somehow felt just right a few hours alone in my room would not be a sentence of doom and so without remorse i set forth on my new old course my paychecks i would save to booze i would no longer be enslaved and so i had made up my mind but fate could not be so kind and to my doom i was lured for a voice behind me i heard my head i could not restrain from turning - and there was jane part 6

pals, part 4: reenter henry

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we walk through this world alone with secret dreams and silent moans in impenetrable dark with only an occasional spark what was jane to me but the same old mystery that envelops the trillion separate earths of a trillion separate births the whimperings and curses of a trillion universes abandoned and forlorn never asking to be born what had jane seen that night that had caused her to take flight was it any business of mine? a casual observer might well opine here i must confess i am beginning to digress i return to my narrative line next night i was right on time at the end of another day in "my" seat at rays cafe jane was not there, to my chagrin and then - henry walked in after greetings all around the bar he found and lovingly caressing his drink into "his" chair he did sink my world had been turned upside down but henry didn't laugh or frown in fact he hardly glanced at me but looked around quite placidly at the assembled denizens of rays who did not seem to be changing their ways they were staring at their suds as if eternity was in their blood nothing seemed worth a mention then henry turned his attention to me - his features rearranged and he said "you've changed" i had the wherewithal to say "everything changes every day" he replied quick as a cat "you don't get off as easy as that - i think you will agree that nothing gets past me" "no," i replied, slightly nettled "i didn't know such a thing had been settled." henrys eyes grew slightly wide and he casually replied "no reason to get testy, old boy i didn't mean to annoy it has been a while since we met and i must confess i forget where we ended our last converse - did we leave the world better or worse?" a fool could plainly see that henry was trying to placate me in his usual easy way so why did i hear myself say - "i don't know how i lasted so long without your dance and song your infinite knowledge of all events your deep wisdom and profound sense of all that has been and will be " henry just stared at me as if i had grown a second head and then he said - "my, aren't we in a lather i thought you enjoyed my blather or if not actively enjoyed at least were never annoyed -" henry's eyes narrowed and then he opened them wide again - "ah" he exclaimed with a trace of glee "i think i begin to see - you are showing all the signs most of them not benign of a guy who has had his brain hammered by a dame yes, i see it now only too well one of them has cast her spell maybe on purpose, maybe not i never would have thought -" i felt i'd been punched in the gut "never would have thought what?" "oh, i didn't mean to upset you" henry took a sip of his brew "we can talk about politics instead" a whirlwind roared in my head henry nodded and winked i didn't know what to think and where was jane tonight? nothing seemed right i really didn't know what to say about this game i didn't know how to play part 5: no escape

ace of night, part 4: the wind and the rain

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there were no messages for me when i got inside the hotel. not that i was expecting any, but i always check. just like i always look both ways and behind me when i cross the street. you got to gamble, but you can't be too careful. i walked up the three flights of stairs to my room. i don't like elevators. did i ever tell you what happened to me in an elevator in budapest in 1944? but that is another story. i walked down the corridors. one thing about the place, it was quiet. i stood outside the door of the hotel room. how many doors outside how many rooms in how many hotels in how many cities in how many continents had i stood like this - my sixth sense told me everything was all right. i still wished i had a gun. i needed a lot of things - that was high on the list. i put the key in the door and opened it and went in. i switched on the light. nothing. just like i expected. my powers of prediction were still working pretty good. good enough, anyway. i needed some sleep but i knew i wasn't going to get any. i had gotten pretty wet, so i got my suitcase out and changed my clothes. i could hear the wind and rain outside. i couldn't stop thinking about the dame in the cab - what did she call herself? miss lost lamb. i went and looked out the window, it was raining harder than ever. i hoped miss lost lamb hadn't gotten too wet getting out of the cab. she was right across the street. so close, so close. i could say, she might as well be a million miles away. but i know better. fate has a way of stepping in. especially if you know how to handle it. i got a cigarette out of my pack and started to light it with my lighter. then i remembered the matchbook. davenport 7 - 5297. i went over and sat on the bed and picked up the phone. the line was dead. not too surprising, in a dump like this. but now i was curious. and i wasn't going to sleep anyway. i didn't feel like going back out in the rain. i figured i'd go down to the front desk, use the phone down there. yeah, that is what i'd do. davenport 7 -5297 it had a certain ring to it. part 5: carla

first poem

columbus sailed the ocean blue napoleon met his waterloo nero fiddled while rome burned joan of arc was roasted to a turn george washington cut down the cherry tree patrick henry wanted to be free abraham lincoln freed the slaves blackbeard rests in a watery grave cleopatra was fond of snakes moses was found in the canebrake isaac newton got hit by an apple jacob with the angel all night did grapple delilah cut poor samsons hair solomon sat in a golden chair benedict arnold was a traitor foul old ben franklin was wise as an owl confucius had a lot to say buddha sat in the shade all day friar tuck and robin hood robbed the bad to feed the good methusaleh lived to be very old jesse james was an outlaw bold bob ford shot jesse in the back all pride and manhood he did lack florence nightingale tended the sick the tower of babel was made of brick noah built an ark in the rain goliath by little david was slain all these things i learned in school i am a barely tolerable fool always keep your powder dry and wait until you see the whites of their eyes

lover

you look so fine, baby, coming down the stairs with your eccentric millionaires a mellon and a dupont on each arm how could you ever come to harm? down in the shadows, behind the band that's me with a tray in my hand but you need not be impressed i'm serving the chauffeurs, not the guests i know your new friends would never believe that you could ever plot to deceive with your baby eyes and perfect smile but i have walked with you many a mile on feet of dreams down a highway of lies under burning, black and rainy skies but why speak in symbols, why talk in riddles your hell is real and i'm in the middle remember the gray nevada sand when we walked into vegas hand in hand the bus blasted by with its black exhaust but we never stopped to count the cost vegas - the american vampire night lit by money's undying light 24 hours of non-stop cancer the tunnel of love for two cons without an answer third time unlucky, you always said the third mark we rolled turned up righteously dead you took one look at the sucker's i d your eyes got wide and you said to me this guy's the boss of the whole east coast but, baby, i still love you the most no need to be scared of this dead mother as long as we are true to each other and remember the cafe in laramie when i became you, and you became me and the world was buried in cold and snow it was not so very long ago now that i think of it - yes, whenever i'd wake up from a dream of love forever your eyes were always clear and bright checking out everything, everything in sight when we held up the liquor store in ukiah i thought i heard the heavenly choir but it was the deputy's turn to die you saved me then - now i wonder why and what would mrs purvington-smith say if she knew who you hung out with and the things you did and the things you knew and the jokers and johns you conned - the whole crew and mr and mrs burford jones would shiver in their upholstered bones and cry for their mamas if you ever admitted to all the murders you've committed remember the time on 34th street when you got blisters on both feet we went into larry's sandwich shop the rain began falling, drop by drop and there was that pink cigar smoking god callahan from the vice squad but he just nodded and stirred his tea stirred his tea, so wearily larry's was kind of declasse the american sub was his forte you liked yours so much you ordered two more the rain began to really pour a guy at the counter with a purple face told a sad story about the seventh race the hustlers and losers and shoppers outside went by in a single watery tide at times like that it seemed to me they were all slaves, and only i was free the world wasn't old, the world wasn't new the world wasn't anything, but i had you