A 5 Year Old President

Alessia was just 4

When she stepped back from her painting,

And from under her $3.99 Green Beret,

she exclaimed “awesome” .

I knew her time would come.

And it has!!

Consider Alessia’s qualifications:

She has a vocabulary beyond Trumps understanding

And is beloved by everyone who meets her.

Putin would smile upon her

Seniors would surely vote her in, and

Congressmen would never call her names.

There are just two problems:

She still naps and needs to finish kindergarten.

I Know Not

All trees are bent

Except for the straight ones

Which are merely twisted.

We need a new species

To lead us,

One that sleeps far from thought.

We will have no water

Consider the moon

Is it unhappy?

From where comes melody

Does the White Whale

Speak of love?

Boy On The Loose

Maybe 18 months old and chubby.

He has pulled free of his mom

And could stumble into the street.

I need only move 2 feet to block his path.

Mission accomplished, I smile at mom

And pull my ancient mutt down the street.

40 years ago, in mid-Manhattan,

I was confronted by a different small boy.

This one pushed the rotating hotel door open.

This guy was maybe 2 and heading for Lexington Avenue.

His mother, racing to stop his progress,

Glared at me for merely watching the race.

Unavailable

There is something wrong with a a phone call

That announces you can’t call me back.

Doesn’t that sound rather arrogant?

I will call you whenever I please.

4 AM Monday or Sunday at 11 PM

But you can never call me.

Further, I may not be immediately available

Even though I am the calling party.

You most understand that I have a lousy job.

My pay is buckish, no fringes

And a remarkable number of people like you

Who slam their receiver down when I say “Hi”.

Perhaps if the “unavailable” message were softened,

To “we can talk latter”?

The Policeman

That Friday afternoon                                            

Two white motorcycle cops,                                

Dressed to intimidate,                                              

Arrived at my front door.

Before discussing my complaint

The short, senior, cop ordered me to remove my dog.

(Rose had been quietly sitting by my side.)

I put her in the garage.

Short cop was not interested in my call  

For police assistance and remained hostile.

Both men refused to remove their dark glasses,

Or enter my house.

They left after advising me

That I could be put in jail

If they thought it appropriate,

And never did listen to my concern.

Dressed in black,

They never smiled,

Completing the stereotype

Assigned to them by some movie legend.

What aspect of civilization

Did they represent?

If guardians, who or what was beginning guarded

Beside their self-image?

Dad’s Education

Lou, my Dad, quit school before the 9^th grade.

His father tended to spend his money on cards.

Max, Lou’s older brother, did the same.

Dad put food on the table he shared with his mom.

In time Dad owned his own business

And earned enough to allow

Me to attend a city college, 

But he could never recover his lost school years.

A truly sharp and well-dressed hat maker,

He never saw the places he should have reached.

I don’t recall his bemoaning an 8^th grade education,

But he gave space to college grad fools.

My Dad's Hair

My earliest recollections of Dad

Includes a vision of thinning side burns,

With no offending foliage forward of his ears.

This was not going to be my problem!

I had a pompadour,

A large not well controlled wave,

That followed mom’s side of the tree.

Alas, today my wave is not simply smaller,

It has succumbed to the cruel plot

That expresses itself when my mirror

Reflects a balding dome that seats upon

An aging face

And smiles at what has vanished.