PARKING LOT

“FUCK!”  “Come over here and say that, FAGGOT!”
“Are you staring at me?”  He yelled, throwing pieces of furniture
Echoing off the cavernous dumpsters they hit, Hip-Hop music blaring
Out the apartment that let him crash there, so loud my walls vibrate
Wandering around in the parking lot and it’s three o’clock AM
He watched my every move from my car to the Condo Complex door
And I left my 14-year-old Honda Civic—too dented for insurance—
In the parking lot with him, and only two weeks ago we ran up to him
After I photographed him breaking into my friend’s Dakota pick-up truck
My 911 call brought two police cruisers to the parking lot that afternoon
I emailed the station my photographs along with my report, yet here he is
Wandering around the parking lot yelling, “FUCK!” and hollering
Hip-Hop blaring, and it’s three o’clock AM again, like two nights ago
When my 911 call brought a police cruiser to the parking lot
He was inside that night and taunted the police out his sliding glass door
On the second floor, he knew the police couldn’t gain access to him
Last night, my 911 call brought three police cruisers to the parking lot,
The smiling, indifferent condo owner, and two men in military uniform.
It’s quiet, tonight.  Peaceful.  Only the occasional cavernous clang
Of a homeless person digging in the dumpster, or a shopping cart’s rattle
Across the parking lot, as I reflect out my 3rd floor sliding glass door
I wonder about the Asian families with children who live here

I CAN’T PRACTICE TONIGHT

My own car is parked across town at my partner’s place
I can’t practice my keyboards tonight
Making music is a far cry from nowhere, now
In this scattered mind driven to alarmed glances out the window
Every ten minutes by anxiety from the 911 call
I made again only three days ago, and three days before that
In broad daylight the first time, and then at 4AM the second time
I was still up, reading, when they vandalized my friend’s pickup truck
They attached a charger to his battery the first time with obvious intent
Same guys, same truck, same hollering obscenities at 3AM, loud hip-hop
Blaring in the parking lot from the apartment that lets him in
We glared eye-to-eye while I walked from the doorway to my own car
Next day, and I don’t know how it would have turned out
Had it come to other than eye contact, watching my every move
It isn’t just my dimmed apartment lights
—I don’t think he knows which window is mine—
It’s more my alarmed glance out the window at every clamor
Thump, car-door shut, every yell from the parking lot, or scream
My mobile phone always within reach, my scattered nerves
—I don’t want another Night on Bald Mountain—
My own car parked across town tonight, at my partner’s place
I can’t practice my keyboards tonight

Geode

I bought a geode at a New Age store

–So like my being’s core

Unbecoming outside

Oh, but beautiful inside

Appearing unresponsive, hard, or harsh at first sight

Oh, I’ll fight

In a world with so much violence

So much negligence

So many who don’t seem to care

I despise the callous shell I feel I need to wear

For I am weak

Unlike Love lived out in a world gone dark and bleak

Inside hide facets of love I long to share

Oh, I care

So much love I have to release

And do in too few places

Those opened spaces

When there is peace

In holy times

In safe, sheltered, placid climes

In sacred spaces, among hearts beloved

Among sacred hearts, peacefully moved

 

When the crusty world breaks open

So often merely broken

Shattered

Wits scattered

When dreams, comfort, complacency quake

Break

Hearts open and lay bare

When comfort and complacency tear

I found my torn open heart and nurtured and cultivated

And prayed and wept and meditated

My soul sublimated

And hard-hearted adamant beatified

Inside

Though whenever fractious forces weep and subside

The beauty shows

Love flows

Received and bestowed

Shining and reflecting like my opened geode