MORNING ESPRESSO

October 18, 2012                    B

As me and another, maybe two,

were making our way in the woods,

we came to an ancient tree with great roots showing.

We could hear strange voices speaking a language from another time.

Then there was absolute silence, then butterflies appeared

making music unlike any we’d ever heard.

November 8, 2013                     B

A haggard man sick on the sidewalk,

then again at the curb.

Too much to drink?

A bug?

Chemo?

Life?

How will my sickness come out today?

November 22, 2013                B

The Chrysler Building lights go out,

Starbucks begins to buzz,

the lights go on a La Delice.

Two blocks up Hector opens for business, $1.00 per pound,

buses, cars and taxis thicken,

street Zambonis do their jobs and

a Daily News man drops off  papers.

I can smell that man’s stogie through the window

as the lady sweeps and picks up litter in the gutter.

A weathered blonde in a red coat

spreads out her purse and carriers bags on the table and chairs, ready to monopolize anyone who comes near.

A father drinks coffee, his daughter eats clementines,

they chat softly.

The school bus arrives at 3rd and 28th which she enters,

as Dad walks west on 31st sipping his coffee.

Good morning New York City.

June 6, 3013                    B

Mother Empire is covered by clouds,

the top of the Princess too.

Traffic rolls by on 3rd Ave,

workers tend the hive here in the Bagel Cafe.

Bialy and bagel lovers start to show up

as I drink espresso,

down a scone,

read some, write some,

try to wake up

to start my day with some order,

attempt to breathe and hold up the sky.

June 6, 2013                            B

I know that Mother Empire isn’t permanent.

I know that someday like everything else

she will be dust.

But this morning it doesn’t matter,

at first light she is magnificent

silhouetted against the blue heavens,

rising above the bridges, rivers and rooftops,

blessing her brilliant daughter to the north,

her golden crowned son to the south.

The energy of the cosmos will always be,

Mother Empire will be dust,

But how royally she rules in this moment.

How she ‘writes her fire in the sky.’

Oh Queen, live forever!

Or at least for a hundred years or so.

The three buildings are: The Empire State Building, the Chrysler Building, New York Life

February 12, 2013                           B

The small Mexican boys move quickly

carrying 100lb sacks of flour on their shoulders.

They’re up and down the stairs over and over and over again.

They’re back in the truck now and gone like a flash.

“It’s a bird,

It’s a plane,

It’s Supermen.”

February 22, 2013                          B

Above all these buses, taxis,

twash twucks, fire twucks and vans;

above all these buildings, penthouses

water tanks and fire escapes;

above all these New Yorkers walking to

subways, buses or directly to work,

to cabs going to airports and train-stations;

above bikers, runners and dog-walkers;

above me drinking espresso at Dunkin Donuts,

Jeri, Suzy and kids asleep across the street

is the infinite sky full of clouds,  planets,

stars, comets, asteroids, meteors, quasars, nebulae,

and many, many HAL’s floating around unplugged;

the unfathomable sky stretches into eternity and infinity.

February 28, 2013                B

That guy looked calm enough from a distance:

when I sat near him I found out different.

He coughed and cleared his throat constantly,

sniffed, sneezed and hacked.

He carried on an ongoing conversation with??

He labored and fussed with his Post,

shoulder bag, zipper, anything and everything else.

He grumbled and argued and yelled out “Goddammit.

He limped out and picked up a free Village Voice at the corner vending machine.

March 3, 2013                      B

A warm bialy and an excellent macchiato.

I’m late so many knoshers are in my space.

My ‘friend’ is here in full form,

Non-stop coughing and throat clearing –

no ticks today but I do notice his jeans and shorts don’t cover his butt.

Is he unaware of how he is?

Are we unaware of how we are?

That, so to speak, our pants are down?

That our inner cacophony is out there for all to see?

March 6, 2013                           B

Sad about that young lady

sitting back in the corner away from others.

Thin, weathered but not unattractive, maybe 35,

She sits for a few minutes, stands,

walks to the window, goes outside, comes back in,

goes back to her seat,

then the same ritual, again and again.

Where are her mommy and daddy?

Is she homeless? Ill? An addict?

All of the above?

Finally she gathers her things

speaks a soft word to me as she walks by and

into the dark early morning.

May 10, 2013                    B

“I need to see a solid fucking stomach and a great nose,”

so said the young guy to his drinking buddies a couple of tables from me.

He continued: “ I broke seven condoms in her vagina.”

The wisdom just kept pouring out.

“Where are we now…2nd Ave?...3rd Ave?...toidy toid and toid?…HA HA HA HA.

Every parent’s nightmare.

March 15, 2013        B

Diminutive, gray face gray eyes peering out from a black hood,

slumping at her table,

dark bags blanket the  floor and chairs around her.

A waitress comes and speaks to her quietly.

In slow motion she collects herself and goes out;

someone else will have to pick up her leavings, the farthest thing from her black-hole mind.

The wraith vanishes in the dark.

April 2, 2013          B

That woman just categorically disappeared.

She moved around outside my window,

looked this way and that,

down at the sidewalk all around,

stepped behind that pillar and that was it.

I walked outside, looked up and down 3rd Ave

left and right on 28th-

she absolutely wasn’t anywhere.

April 11, 2013              B

Frank has definitely discovered Starbucks,

already here when I arrived

sitting in one of the big stuffed chairs

talking across the room to a guy about

his millions, his pre-nup agreement,

his lazy brother,

his 3200 sq ft house which he might sell,

him being sole beneficiary of his parents estate,

he and his wife Moving to St. Louis in a few months.

One thing I know: I’m going back to the Bagel Café

or Dunkin Donuts.

One more thing: Frank just shared that he was up at 4am this morning to do 5 miles.

Does it every morning.

August , 2013                    B

A young man and his mother sit near by.

He brought her coffee only, a breakfast sandwich for himself.

The dialogue is gentle.

He looks at her lovingly, gives her a piece of his sandwich.

Outside an old female dog is tied to a post

barking for her person inside,

who comes out,

looks at her lovingly,

speaks gently,

gives her a piece of bialy.

June 27, 2013                 B

He might have been a beautiful child,

now he’s a dark, broken shell.

A black hole.

A walking gutter.

A wraith.

June 30, 2013           B

A weathered handsome man

with salt and pepper hair and beardstands at 30th and 3rd

looking up, down and across town

looking for home

looking for true north.

July 4, 2013                  B

Reading John O’Donohue about the ‘sacredness of the land.’

A young lady circles the intersection on her red bike.

A vendor wearing a yamulka carries two boxes of challah.

An overweight mother and daughter wait for their orders.

A homeless guy wanders by.

Doctors and nurses stop by for their knoshes

Workers buzz like bees

Taxis, cars, buses, vans, ambulances, fire-trucks whiz by

The mother eats a 2500 calorie breakfast and belches loudly

I wonder how much one of her arms weigh.

The Queen Mother and Princess watch over all.

July 5, 2013           B             

Young. Attractive. Tight dress. Barefoot. Tattooed all over. Smoking. Whining. Roller suit-case.

Pan-handling drivers stopped at light.

Inside now. Not whining. More calm. Ordering coffee. Using restroom. Back on the street. Smoking.

Pokes head in Starbucks.

Warns loudly that a traffic cop is ticketing a car out front.

Could be my daughter.

July 7, 2013                      B

Man laying on sidewalk at 3rd and 29th

Sores on his face and arms

Wet pants

“I don’t need money…I need an ambulance.”

I didn’t speak, didn’t stop, passed him by.

Ancient words came to me

“Inasmuch as you did it to the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.”

Jeri would have called an ambulance.

Next time.

March 5, 2014                          B

A weathered man spreads out on two tables

carrier bags all around

talks passionately to a brother

standing over him.

Non-stop words and gestures, words and gestures, words and gestures, saliva flying.

Another sleeps at a nearby table

head cradled in his arms. Wakes up. Sits quietly.

Silently walks out.

Makes his way up 3rd Avenue.

March 25, 2014                      B

A hard pizza crust and cold coffee

Are truffles and prime rib

To that grubby old guy

Who digs in the wet trash.

Digging deeper he finds a half eaten Big Mac

And a little Tikka Masala.

April 16, 2014                          B

The gent walks in almost bumping me

but he won’t make eye contact,

won’t speak unless I challenge him with a firm “Good Morning,”

then he might nod slightly.

Nice looking , elderly, maybe retired like me,

usually reads the NY Post Sports page.

Sometimes I see him walking a white poodle in the neighborhood,

a sign he’s got a life outside the Bagel Café.

What do I walk?

May 13, 2014                       B

slow motion

bathroom at Bagel Café

cigarettes at Future Market

standing at corner

looking up 3rd Ave

looking down 3rd Ave

looking east on 30th St

looking west on 30th St

looking up 3rd Ave

looking down 3rd Ave

looking east on 30th St

looking west on 30th St

walking west on 30th St

stopping

turning around

looking back

turning around

walking west

slow motion

June 8, 2014                B

Like an owl, he soft feathered to the challah counter

stuffed a loaf under his coat

and stealthed out.

Now he’s out in the dark, digging in the trash at the corner,

then stealthing up 3rd Avenue.

June 22, 2014                        B

Breathing heavily his face on the filthy sidewalk,

a cop and a homeless man hovered over him.

An EMR team was there in minutes getting him on a stretcher and into their truck

then gone as quick as it came,

one of New York’s Bravest washing the blood into the gutter.

Nothing left now but a wet sidewalk, workers walking, cars passing.

July 20, 2014                 B

It just occurred to me.  Mandie is home.

She comes here each morning and claims

the two comfy chairs by the big window,

scans the room   puts her carrier bags down

scans the room   orders a tall coffee

scans the room   does her stretches

scans the room   starts reading

talks to anyone near or rhetorically

but seems to listen when others talk.

I judged her for nearly a year   she doesn’t deserve it.

She seems odd but I might seem odd to her as I stare her way  

read   write  stare her way again.

She goes into the Ladies Room for long periods

probably uses it for her toilet, bath and make up.

Anyway here she is again stopping by mother’s

before her day on the street.

Mandie’s home.

August 19, 2014                        B

Mind set free in the caffeine realm,

I sit at the Bagel Café window:

watching mother Empire with my ears;

hearing the workers, the espresso machine with open eyes.

Each movement preaches perfect law;

Each aroma chants true sutra.

The most fleeting thought is timeless;

a feint sound is heard in the stars.

(modified Shutaku)

September 1, 2014                        B

Bad dream.

A black cat attacking my feet and legs.

Couldn’t get away from her.

Jeri awakened me,

asked if I was OK.

Interpretation:   Neuropathy in my feet and legs. Unable to escape it.

Interpretation:  The evil I’ve done, the wrongs. Always back to haunt me. Unable to escape it, them.

September 8, 2014                        B

One thing’s for sure, no one’s going to tell Amos what to do.

He’s “sure as hell not going to play their game.”

Those “ fuckers can get others to punch their clocks

and wear their monkey suits” but not him.

He points, waves his hands

projects spit balls

telling his friend in the red Canuck sweatshirt

how it is in no uncertain terms,

sitting in his ragged clothes

on the steps of Simon’s Hardware and Bath.

Now he’s up for breakfast, stretches, and

saunters toward the trash receptacle at the corner.   

September 10, 2014                    B

The panhandler talks to the young Jewish guy who is picking up his coffee, probably heading for work.

The lady behind the counter tells him not to give the guy anything…says that the panhandler is lying.

The young guy responds…”you cant prove that.”

He gives the vagrant a buck and heads for work.

.