Tomorrow Will Be Wondrous

Tomorrow is next month and yesterday

was weeks ago when I resolved that all

of my tomorrows would begin with a

pause to drink in, reflect on, the first glimpse

of incandescent yellow cracking through

black.

But if once again tomorrow I miss

the dawn, then I will renew with the sound

of water sluicing around the rocks in

the creek just down the road, dressed in dogwood

pink, sugar maple red, and bright gingko

yellow.

But if rain keeps me in, then I will start

anew with the scent of my wife’s freshly

washed hair as we kiss before she sets off

on a quick errand that could well last an

eternity.

But if that doesn’t happen, then rebirth

will have to start with the feel of this pen

between these bent fingers, and the smooth glide

across this sheet of paper and all my

yesterdays. Tomorrow, I know, will be

wondrous.

The Odds

If what wimples and industrial-sized

rosary beads told me is true, and as

I draw nearer to the time the soul will

take its leave and then wait to reunite

and radiate or burn, eternally,

an either-or proposition, I find

the prospect of reincarnation a

much more appealing alternative. The

sages say that the best route to moksha

is human. But they do not guarantee

(the way of sages) that my next cycle

won’t start as a caged rabbit on Easter

morning, or a baby seal about to

be sent back into the cycle or one

of many blow flies racing toward road kill.

But as with all things unproven, unknown,

the wise person considers the odds. And…

The Queen of Café Nile 

The Queen of Café Nile

Holds court on Forty-Fifth.

All who approach, must smile.

“Tourists?” she asks, forthwith.

Brown wig askew as she

holds court on Forty-Fifth.

Head high, she sips her tea.

Vinyl bench, now her throne.

Brown wig askew as she

insists, in Brooklyn tone,

she once lived where you’re from.

Vinyl bench, now her throne.

Her husband left, the bum,

Yet she’s doing fine, and

she once lived where you’re from.

Who rules this barren land?

The Queen of Café Nile.

Yet she’s doing fine, and

all who approach, must smile.