LIFE EXPECTANCY

on an afternoon as humbling
as any in the last two or three months
a smiling stranger
(his smile edged by doubts and regrets)
stops a frowning stranger on the street
(his frown shaped by tedium and distrust)

I'm busy, the unbusy frowning stranger states firmly,
carrying tedium like a rock-filled sack

the smiling stranger speaks
in sullen eloquence:
I have this gun
a research tool
I'm studying diligently
attempting to understand
terror and fear
and the horror of randomness

the frowning stranger puts his hands togethe
as if in prayer
full of the aforementioned
terror, fear, and horror of randomness

not to worry, it's not loaded
the smiling stranger says
but he has a dishonest face
and a trigger finger
that looks clichéd and itchy

THE WORD MONSTROSITY

I sneak up on the word monstrosity
sneak up and yell “boo”
in a voice loud enough
to wake a monster
or a monster impostor
such are the times we live in
that there are devotees of defilement
lurking in the syllables of sense
blame it on the trickery of TV
blame it on the shopping malls
where plots are hatched and souls sold

“boo” I yell again and again
the monstrosities barely move
I want out of this TV show
I want out of this shopping mall
I want out of this one-word word game
where boos aren't worth
the mouths that utter them
and fashioning imprecations
from the word monstrosity
isn't nearly enough
to get you to Heaven
or out of Hell.

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