standing in the dirty snow

(written on Tuesday, February 22, 2005, in the early morning)

A shipment of coconut palms has just arrived.
The town planner in Parma, Ohio,
ordered them to end our wintry depression.
But is there unpaved ground for planting
the sunny warmed balls of roots
denied their delight in humid beds down South?
And has the cost of breaking shovel points
in spare patches of icy cold ground
been reckoned by the local politicians?
Nobody’s standing in the dirty snow
to notice the beginning of the end of our wintry despair.

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the unkindest cut

(written on Tuesday, March 1, 2005, at daybreak)

His billfold seemed more youthful and less patriotic
since it had been on a low-income, no plastic diet.
Its breath smelled less the chew of greasy greenbacks
and more the leather holster of a lone cowboy.

It didn’t come ‘round much anymore
to salute the American Dream,
but stayed behind, shy of company
that used to call on business
before stocks fell and depression struck
and work was hard to find.

But the unkindest cut was
not lost portraits of tendered presidents,
nor demagnetized swipes of other peoples’ money,
nor forgotten deals on cards of calling past.
Gone were love’s pictures without a kiss goodbye.

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