Hoodoo

“Start small with your toe in the water.

This company is going to be very special.”

said Lizette.

At the same time she was

working a side voodoo.

You know, just in case.

It’s called the “Beef Tongue Shut Up Hoodoo Spell”

Step 1: Get a beef tongue.

Step 2: Slit open the tongue, down the middle.

Step 3: Say the name of the person you want to shut up.

Step 4: Say the following spell, “I cross and cover you,

come under my command. I command you to hold your tongue.”

Step 5: Cut off a piece of the tongue,

put it in a mason jar with a piece of paper

with the name of the prosecutor.”

“What’s the worst case scenario?” asked Lizette.

“You lose a few bucks.

It’s not like you lose your dignity.”

Il Futuro

“Lei e l’amore della mia vita.” said Jack in busted Italian.

“Ma lei non mi ama più.”

“Cosa posso fare?”

“Speak English.” said Juan.

“No se puedo.” said Jack, with a pout and slight slur.

“What’s the point of all this?” asked Juan.

“I don’t know, I’m trying to milk it for everything I can.”

replied Jack.

“How’s that working out for you?” asked Juan.

“Not well” said Jack after a long pause.

“So stop with all the drama queen bullshit.”

“You’re right, fuck her.”

“Abbastanza.” said Juan.

“Si” said Jack with a smile.

After the Rain

The wet ground

around the chicory.

Fading lavender blue,

hanging on for dear life.

The rain knocked a pile of oranges

off the tree.

Bringing a slight citrus memory.

A kind of melancholy,

after they fell.

You could inhale it in the air.

Jack remembered skinny dipping,

and jumping through the green water

into her laughter, muffled now with the years.

But like the smell released

by the moisture,

that moment is freed,

to come alive again,

wet and welcoming.

It hasn’t rained here for months.

He hoped the storm would linger

just for a day or two.

Chip Off the Old Block

Jack’s mother, Ruth, called.

“Why are your kids so short?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“My brother, James, was tall,

I’m tall, you’re tall…you’re kids are midgets.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say.” replied Jack.

“We have the tall genes on this side of the family.”

“I guess the short genes are more dominant.”

“You need to disown them.”

“Cut them out of the will.” said Ruth.

“Because they’re short?”, he asked.

“That’s right…”

“…Not just because they’re short.

They’re also disrespectful.

It’s their upbringing.”

“Alright, that’s enough..” said Jack, chuckling.

“Go back to your lair.”

Very Rude Elevator Screamers

There they were.

Just letting their voices be heard.

They’re all women.

Angry women,

Women with ideas and concerns.

Strong women.

Women with a strategy.

These women, they’re onto something.

And, frankly,

I want to serve them,

But I’m imperfect.

I’ll go to the end of the earth,

for them.

I thought about it.

You get one life,

Whose cause are you gonna trumpet?

These women,

I believe in them.

Anatomy of a Heart Attack

“I was in the kitchen

and he was sitting at the counter.

He looked at me and smiled.

I said,’What?’

He said and I’m not kidding,

‘If I were to ask God

to create the ideal woman,

In temperament,

disposition,

beauty,

intelligence and talent,

He could not do better than you.”

“It melted my heart”, she said.

“I just went to him and kissed him.”

“I don’t know what to say, I said.”

‘Don’t say anything.’ he replied.

You don’t have to say anything,’

Her ex Max shook his head,

“Smooth operator,

He’s a smooth operator, that guy.”

Savor

Max leaned in and

kissed her.

Just below her ear

on the nape of her neck.

He inhaled.

There was something about

the way she smelled.

It wasn’t perfume or essential oils.

It was her.

Like distant lilacs

like before a fall rain.

It was almost ancient,

Archetypal, was it pheromones?

It transcended lifetimes.

It was encoded in his neurons,

Did everyone notice that about her?

They couldn’t,

he thought.

“What are you doing?” Ophelia asked.

“I need a shower, I know.”

“No” said Max, “I love the way you smell.”

“Idiot.” she said pushing him playfully away.

She So Fine

I’d crawl a half mile

over broken glass

just to hear her fart.

Seriously, that’s how fine she is.

The other day, she was out

doing a photo shoot.

And when they posted the best shot,

it got, like, 600,000 likes.

I mean, it’s obscene, the way she is.

The power that she has.

So I messaged her.

And got no response.

Do you know how difficult no response is?

It was my undoing.

It’s like the worst virus ever.

So then she posts something mundane.

She’s at the fridge, in a tube top with no pants.

Of course it’s a product placement,

but I can’t help myself.

I want to buy, for her.

I spend, like $300 bucks.

I don’t care what it is,

She told me to buy it.

Her wish is my command.

White Privilege

Black Mercedes SUV.

White Boy rolls up,

baseball cap and itchin’.

Car has vanity plates.

“Goddesss” with 3 s’s

Mikio walks out to his car.

Blue Mini Cooper Clubman

with the suicide door.

“Can I help you?” asks the white boy.

“What?” asks Mikio.

“Why you looking at me?”

“I’m walking to get in my car,

nobody’s looking at you.”

“You’re looking at me now.”

“Because you’re talking to me.”

“Can I help you?” asked Mikio.

“Just parking my car.” the white boy said

walking away.

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Godesss

with 3 s’s” said Mikio.

He backed his car out of the driveway

and watched the white boy walk down the street.

“Schmuck.” he thought and drove the other way.

West Hollywood

Echoes of rectangles,
all the angles,
the windows, the doorways,
the Exit.

Sometimes, I’m so obsessed
with composition,
it’s all I see.

Every moment is another
exercise in
foreground
middle ground
and background.

The harmony of
one or two circles
in the hard angle courtyard.

Jieng-Mi’s shoes
sounded on the concrete.
Angular in their own way.
Staccato in the morning light.
She was the soundtrack
beginning the melody of the day.