a perspective

this hole
to get the right perspective
you say laying in it every time
watching the skies
when you forget the reason
for living
“For a man is born to toil”

you like to repeat
as you remember this answer

I tend to agree with you
every time I stand on the edge
of this hole
imagining you laying down below
in the reverse perspective

a lullaby #2

damn, this banging outside!
don’t wake up the sleeping night
it wake the restless dogs
they’ll howl at the moon
the moon will stop smiling
sad moon-face will upset winking stars
stars will fall on our street
the kids will run outside to play with them
they will burn their hands
their mommies will get upset
they will yell at the drinking guys
shooting empty beer cans outside
damn, this banging outside!

sirens, sirens
I saw this coming!

autumn leaves

when I’ll become an old man
filled with the wisdom of ages
I will sit in the park
on the old wooden bench
holding a crutch in my hands
watching the wind playing
with autumn leaves

autumn leaves, played by the wind
I am the boy chasing the girls
in the schoolyard
autumn leaves, lifeless and dry
like the skin, I will have
on my hands that are holding the crutch

with this old crutch
I will draw funny face
cross-eyed face, – wry smile
I’ll smile back with my
brown-leaf-dry-cracked lips
quietly lamenting those days
the days I didn’t appreciate living

a bandaid

the bandaid on her knee
a pathetic reminder
of her first love
a short marriage
– a sad story, you know
he was used to beat her every time
he was rejected by another prostitute in the tavern, by the train station
she had a miscarriage
a quick divorce
he ended his life in Iraq, his Humvee was ambushed
she moved to another town
got pregnant while she was working as secretary for the local real estate
went to some evening cosmetology classes
had a healthy boy
she called him Skip
– she still remembered him
she is happy now, she says

but all this will happen in the future
now she is sitting on the train on her way to the school