Bacon

              What is bacon

          but a ripple

          of love?

       A gristle 

  and fat wave

     saturated

          with salt

     peppered 

to perfection

 applewood 

    smoked

   best seared 

       on cast iron

      to a blackened 

          red    crisp

        and blissfully 

      munched.

Above the Light

Through the warm jet stream
Of an old kerosene lamp
Walls become curtains.

Young Heart

I hope 
   I will still
be enjoying
      the thrill
   of wielding
a finger
   to smear 
            smiles
     that linger
  on chilled
     window panes
in my 
   sixties 

Striving

I don't crave being different
   or part of a craze 
      but to purge
       my indifference

 escape
    from the maze
of shallow partitions
     that channel 
       |my soul|
between greed
     and ambition 
along rails of false hope
   toward a destiny

                          (   void   )

of love-rooted meaning 
     where regret
      in hindsight
             will 

   /\/\/\  burn /\/\/\ 
in the twilight 
      of a life spent 

striving
         with me

If

If I could just walk
If I could just talk
If I grow just a tad
If I could join in the fad
If I didn't have braces
If I could go places
If I was first chair
If I could just spike my hair
If I had wheels
If I oozed sex-appeal
If I make the team
If I was eighteen
If I lived on my own
If I wasn't alone
If I had plastic money
If all found me funny
If part of a frat
If I just lost more fat
If I pass this exam
If I could just afford Spam
If I avoid being late
If I just graduate
If I get the position
If I bathe in commission
If I can just make her laugh
If I can just make this last
If I had more finesse
If she says 'yes!'
If she wouldn't char food
If she thought like a dude
If she would clam-up
  doll-up, wait-up, warm-up. . .
If we only had kids
If Junior just lives
If I purchase a mansion
If I survive the expansion
If I get out of debt
If I win the next bet
If I could afford my ambition
If I can outspend attrition
If my hair would hold tight 
If Junior'd get right
If I could retire
If I could rekindle the fire
If my joints didn't ache
If I could see straight
If she'd just outlive me
If Junior would love me
If I was still young
If I could just fill my lungs
If I could eat more than rice
If my bones weren't dry ice
If I could go back in time
If I could re-live this rhyme
If I wasn't lead to the crypt
By if

Haiti

Beans and rice    chickens hung
black arms baking in the sun
banana      lime     coconut
the deep-ribbed sides of starving mutts
rebar     potholes     cinder blocks
bales of clothes    sticker shock
scent stories sliding from savory to sewage
“mesi”     “pad qua”      “bon voyage”
an orphan's cry from Canaanland
a widow's wrinkled    outstretched hand
papaya      mango      fried plantain
truth and lies      stomach pain
blackouts    vendors    honking horns
waves of love in pools of scorn
dust clouds     beggars      diesel fumes
tent cities     pigs      above-ground tombs
UN sentinels    razor wire
trash piles hosting goats or fire
coffee    thick as motor oil
the shade of palms in fertile soil
wet-hot winds whip tattered flags
over soccer fields with balls of rags
bright white smiles  sugar cane
a persistent  rooster's sharp refrain 
Tampico flowing      orange and pink
wells of water none can drink
nuns and crosses crescent moons
the echo of Voodoo shadows  too
scripture scrawled on cars and signs
evangelistic battle lines.

Convenience

Proximity
  is powerful
    psychological magnetism
somehow walking 
 to a restaurant
    justifies spending
 half-a-week's groceries
    on two meals
 (plus tip)
 when a five mile 
       drive
  to do the same
    seems stupid.