their game

inspired this afternoon observing my mom and three friends enjoying a lighthearted game of canasta

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it’s different today

alone with people 
lonely inside himself
like her
it’s different today

there are those who are complete
with Barbie accessories
used to be days-of-the-week underwear
she’s dating herself
how fun it was back then to misplace Friday
nothing humorous about G-strings
unless you count the wedge itch
you can’t scratch in public
that’s the problem with this new crop of lovers
no sense of humor
‘cleverness’ is their wheelhouse

those pouting cell phone faces
hair calculatingly tousled
upper and lower bulges endlessly optimized
in faux snake scale

elegant mystery lost on past illusions
the past

he covets one
a sense of humor
present when
he’s not trying to be so hard
with thoughts
or backstories
like her
prancing around boldness
except on the dance floor
’80’s disco gloriously simplistic

they are alike
they are alone
in a world beset by shiny upstarts
bedazzled with
Barbie accessories
they summon old-school dreams
and pray these fading thoughts will keep them company
when they are alone
snake-lady-long-neck-edited
slithered out of my head last night-thank you

he whispers amen

thank you he whispers
like an amen
the broad smile on his face
I’ve seen somewhere before
his bright marbled eyes map
world destinations traveled decades ago
both light and dark
those hands, trembling and warm
once gripped killing machines
with cool unshakable confidence
back then

they wore their brand of patriotism
like a second skin
back then

there was no doubting
now there is
and today he whispers
thank you and tips his baseball cap
to my young son
who has just held the door
for the elderly gentleman
wearing the navy blue cap with the meticulous insignia
that reads WWII, US P-51 Mustang

lone

lone

previously published, I have no fighter plane art