troysherdahl

whistling ‘Weezer’

to a geezer

may seem a little funny

to a kid that’s watching me

his nose all wet and runny

pediatric to geriatric

with me the in-between

middle-age is all the rage

you have to dig our scene

the little brat giggles

a snotty snort

the old man coughs

a tough retort

but me, I smile

and whistle ‘Weezer’

I ain’t no kid and

I ain’t no geezer

young lesbian love babes

black bikini twins

beach blanket bingo

is a lesbo bongo bum beat

“kiss me, hug me, slap my butt

here in public, what the fuck!”

cosita linda, young little things

free love rainbow

white sand parade

this is what my rum-wet mind

surveyed

young

horny

and

in love

waves tickle rocks

and claim supremacy

clouds cover peaks

to dictate this day

love blocks reason

as parting seasons

give way—    to Asian anchors

I walked through this forest

congruently lost, I

had a compass calamity

New North was just a tree-fancied nest

disorienting, dark and closed

so I ascended the high, airy plateau

to sing my sun and sea

rays broke clouds magnificient

she listened to awareness in me

free, blue water determined

wave-wet rocks

tickled to be

the lapping lick

of her supremacy

anchors, away

away

away

drawing on this drunken faith

we start this round, my darling

wipe the smile from your pokerface

you flip the finger, snarling

drop 3 aces to say, “my house?”

you pout your smile blindly

I respond the sickly souse

then speak the parting mildly

you’ve got my chips

my money’s done

and this pickup game

is never fun

floppy ears and full of mirth

he sleeps around in canine girth

begs for ball, a happy way

I’m filled with joy to watch him play

Bumblebee, he does not see

RexDog, who eyes him hungrily!

nuisance, I think— Rex has a toy

insect or mongrel, who’s more coy?

a sniff, a snicker

a hum, a buzz

Rex barks the munch!

Bee’s lost some fuzz

but he’ll live to see

another hour

and Rex is off

to eat a flower

I walked into another time

and met old decapitated Buddha Man.

His body was rock and his face was gray

but his smile was merciful.

I skipped a stone and jumped a breath

and thought I caught the chanting breeze.

Felt a flicker of the sun lick fluffy clouds,

as terns flitted flightily.

Curved corners of carved granite

inscribed his image delicately.

Can rock and philosophy be anymore immortal

than the virgin forest?

Stoic, resolute—

even on FarEast, root-infested, crumbling boulders.

And the Buddha Man levitates above all this

cross-legged on lotus flowers.

Even headless, he looks mundanely

at the world below.

jackrabbit fastback

washboard detour

roadrunner dance track

a unidirectional spur

drought-ridden deadpan

like some convertible tunnel—

Route 66 is a sleep can

waking to the Interstate 40 sunswell

incongruous

Hualapai

foreboding

ink-blue

twilights

high beam

Chevy

low flight

dream

keys

cool desert high

4 lanes wide

screech hawks fly

updrafts they ride

hundred miles of dust

calling no name—

limit 55 is crosswind pain

red rock rhyme scheme tireless

painting a sage brush canvas

on a paneless windshield

“jealousy is my new lover,”

she said

“my dark voice

and welcome destructor

evil twin of trust

the black and blue roses floating

in your pure white space

if I could go back

those biting words erase

I would

but —

jealousy is my new lover,”

she said