Hello

I think, therefore I am not
Averse to getting upset over nonsense.
Some mornings I even start
With a smile.... and a little humor.

It doesn’t cost much,
And though the results aren’t measurable
More often then not
It gets a smile in return

No doubt ego is part of the equation.
If nothing else, I feel better about myself
And applaud my clever gambit,
Confirming my gift to humanity. 

How many would rather be ignored
As they stroll past other walkers?
My bit of cheer might deter a suicide. 
Someone could leave me millions.

If not, I’ll live with my satisfaction.
Of course, if my “hello” is ignored
I tend to think, “You are an asshole,
And I’ll stick a pin in your doll. ”

Enemies

“Enemies attack at night”,
One of many accusations Lyndon Johnson
Hurled at the Vietcong.
How utterly diabolical!

Fifty year later
I still hear complaints
That we should have leveled this,
Or we should have invaded that.

Fifty years later
Millions of Vietnamese
Have moved here, and may be
Leading lives of quiet desperation.

They have opened small businesses,
Voted in elections
And have birthed two generations of native Americans,
After winning a war with native Americans.

Two million Vietnamese died
In that long-ago war.
Fifty thousand Americans died in that war,
Fought to bring refugees to our shores.

Now we have a black President
Intent on continuing a war,
Given us by a White President,
A war that has lost its geographical bearing.

If we can bring over millions of Afghanis,
Maybe they could work for the Vietnamese,
And send money back to their families
After winning a war with native Americans.

Incident in the Park

Wandering across the small park,
I passed a man with a Jackson Hole red T-shirt.
He confronted me, angered at my walking
The dog, in clear violation of a posted sign.

His two children were nearby when Rose peed.
They were barefoot and could have,
With a small effort, stepped on the wetted grass.
I should have simply apologized.

Failing to appreciate the children’s
Proximity to Rose, I explained
We were just crossing to my house.
I should have said what sign?

He proposed to report me to the police,
I said again, we were just going home.
He then suggested I lacked guts.
I should have accepted his challenge.

I told him his was a rotten example
To set before his children.
I crossed the street to my house.
I should have pointed out the broken glass.

Anonymous

True generosity comes without a name.
It relinquishes its power
By allowing the giver to retain
A self image untarnished by approbation.

Humility comes at a cost.
Your name will not
Be held in reverence,
Or emblazoned on buildings or billboards.


Who are those people
Who give $5.00
To the bag lady
When I hesitate to give $1.00?

Crossing the Street

She looked fearful
Waiting on the corner of Chestnut and Steiner.
As I started to pass her and cross Chestnut,
I turned to see that she was in trouble.

Eighty I guessed, looking at an eight inch curb drop
That was too much for her.
Our eyes met, I held out my hand
And supported her arm as we negotiated the corner.

Breaking out corner curbs could cost a fortune.
How many people really need curb cutouts?
Maybe they could phone for stuff?
Anyway, there'll usually be someone to help.

Humble

It looks pathetic,
A piece of tape hides
Torn plastic finish at the desk’s edge.
There is perhaps hope in its shabby appearance.

It is but one of two
Visible symbols that I
Have an awareness of difference,
That I not accept the given.

Lacking enough character,
Combined with a persistent
Absence of any esthetic,
Forces me to hold onto trivia.

How do I demonstrate
That I will not acknowledge,
Nor accept the obvious?
My claim of humility is based on a desk corner.