Tacos

Savory homey scent of taco meat (from

scratch) sizzling spitting on the stove.

I’ve seen this part of the city groan and

exhale its steam now for several years.

It has occasionally been occupied

by crazies and open dumpster

porches, trading of hands,

shifting of tiny insignificant powers

calicoed adjoining blocks and snarl

hum boom chuck of Cuming street

traffic, warm dreams of airports,

take on that vast cloud mangled

sky and fly on out of here.

Honeyed looks my way.  Kitchen erotocism

stretched out into the dark living room (window

shake with the passing of empty clunk truck

beds) but never mind the traffic, lost in each

other’s willful sex-blossom hot breath

fully luxuriously winded and love.

Perfect skin, she, and warm mouth

passions breathing into my ear

and I’m going in there rock solid, no room left

except blissful clasp squeeze.

All this in a lost but tempered down

weekend of sheer rare kick back,

the aloevera plants fixed

and potted, still life sentiments against

the studio windows, box of matches

in my pant pocket, tiny percussive

toothpick ramshackle snarl bums,

save what’s left of all worldly sense

                    and MOVE.

Up stairs kids blankets wait to warm

the shoulders of our children and

                     warmth.

Shadows pass over the whole world.

The tacos are almost done and my

stomach is empty, growls like traffic

out front until satiated and full.

- - - - - - - -

(April 6th, 2014)