there is a groundhog
that took up residence
under my shed
technically it’s been more
like a dozen of ‘em.
I think one ran off,
a bunch of them
got caught in traps,
taken away somewhere
purportedly set free.
I stopped calling
my pest control people
this spring when COVID hit.
it wasn’t worth it
to risk them or me
to remove an inconvenience
that just comes back.
my most recent guest,
let’s call him “Jerk,”
has been having
a grand ole’ time.
people rarely leave
so nothing bothers him
or her.
the yard is mowed
so it always has eyes
peeled for the foxes
and the hawks.
Jerk has even made
a little lounge for itself
on a pair of cinderblocks
I found last year
and tried to use
to cover its entrances.
Jerk just lays on ‘em
sunbathing every afternoon.
frustrating at first
now its damn-near adorable.
the other day
we caught it sweeping
like something out of
“The Wind in the Willows.”
technically it was just
nibbling on a fallen branch
but it was endearing as hell.
I hate this Jerk
for no rational reason
now its growing on me.
I’m like that curmudgeon
at the beginning
of a kids movie
always staring out the door
yelling “get off my lawn”
before turning into a softy
and grumbling “Jerk”
under my breath.

Months Of Planning,
Hours Of Conversation,
All For Days Intended To Rekindle A Spirit of Joy,
A Shared Love Of Indulgence.
Five Cities Once Connected To Visit A Great One.
Now Two Coasts Unite To Visit a Third.
On One Shore Three Men Laugh,
Crawl Into Bed,
Ron Jeremy At The Ready.
On The Other Two Men Scramble,
Preparing A Casbah,
Comfort At Its Least.
The Tension Breaks Early,
Like Justice On A Bus.
The City By The Bay Is Breeched,
(The Other City.)
(By Another Bay.)
Explorations Inundated With Hilarity,
Hills Climbed Steadily (If Not Swiftly,)
Stories Are Told Of Adventures In Other Lands.
Rules Are Broken,
And That Which Happened There,
Does NOT Stay There.
Somehow We Uncover A Quarry of Regret,
Garlic Becomes The Meal Of The Night,
And The Middle Of The Night,
And The Morning.
Then A Discussion Of Breakfast Or Dim Sum,
Leading To Blowout Fights Over Eggs Or Rice.
The Mood Is Set For Different Events.
Not Better.
Not Worse.
Adapted.
Changed.
Perhaps Never The Same.
Then Comes The Expected,
The Nourishing,
A Liver Destroyed,
Refusing Any More (Mmm-No!)
An Acceleration With Check Engine Lights,
$9.00!
Shouted By Mrs. M In Her Fright!
An Uphill Battle,
Fraught Hard With Laughter.
43 Charlie On The Plane,
A Sexual Innuendo From A Life Saving Device,
Then The Island.
Isolation At It's Most Invasive.
When Mass Transit Arrives Service Is Denied.
Well Sir,
We Hate To Have To Tell You,
But, YOU GOIN' TO JAIL NOW!
YOU GOIN' TO JAIL NOW!
Swagger Step, Swagger Step,
Uppercut.
Regardless It Is All Resolved.
All We Need Is 4 Women And A Boat!
Sharing Is Caring...
The Island Speaks,
The Beach Invites,
The Natives Chant Their Island Songs,
HEY COOL STORY, BRO!
HEY COME AT ME, BRO!
It Isn't Long Before A Horse Is Tamed,
Provisions Claimed,
And Decisions Are Made.
The Mai Tais Flow,
Maui Salsa Leads To Cadbury Cream Egg Reactions,
The Sand Piles Up In The Corners.
The Winds Blow Hard And Puts Giants To Sleep,
Giants Of Ego, Of Feet, Of Monkey CEO's,
And Janitors Who Prevent Peeing In Ones Sleep.
Days Are Spent Burning,
Or Boozing,
Or Spying On Various Beauties Of The Beach.
Former Fundamental Facts Flip-Flop,
Sometimes Left,
Other Times Left.
Previous Invulnerabilities Find A Breaking Point,
What Once Was Unbreakable,
Is Now Bruised, Bloody, And Beaten.
There Are Island Dances,
Woulda-Shoulda-Coulda Been Romances,
Midnight Messages,
A State Is Discussed,
Feelings Addressed,
Love Freely Given,
Anger Openly Expressed.
That Is The Complexity Of Five-Headed-Giants,
The Complexity of Harold And His Love.
Hair Is Removed,
Lotion Applied,
Asking "Have You Been To Death Valley?"
I Assure You It Is Nothing Like Maui.
The Longest 12 Days,
A 7 Day Vacation Can Be,
Haha!
Haha!
Yes, Sir, Let's Do That Some More!

You Can't Look It Up In A Th-thaw-thsis (thesaurus.)
It's An Experience.
Unique.
Like A Warnicorn.
It's A State Of Mind That Makes You Invulnerable,
The Sharpest Teeth Of The Meanest Dog Can't Harm You.
It's Style,
Like Miami-Vice In Winter.
It's The Baller Lifestyle,
Throwing Out Big Money At The Bowery,
Drinking, Eating, Living Life To The Fullest.
What It Means Isn't Describable In Words,
What It Feels Like Is Expressed Simply In Happiness,
And Laughter.
It Is A Moment In History That Can't Be Repeated.
It Is A Growth Of Character.
A Definition Of Spirit That Can Only Be Shared,
As Four Jumps Over Five And Straight On ‘Till Morning.
It Starts As Something Small,
Almost Becomes Something BIG.
A Bang.
Then It Is Something Big, Dropping Too Low For Comfort.
It Is The Sharing Of Food And Wine And Stories.
It Is The VIP Experience At The Finest Jazz Clubs In NYC.
Cab Rides, Subway Trips, Beautiful Girls.
The Experience Is Waking Up Too Early To Fill Out Forms,
Lying To The Government Because,
Really,
Why Does It Matter?
What It Does Is Make A Reservation Never Made The Best Mistake Possible.
It Takes Friends, Family, Old Loves And New And Thrusts Them Into Camaraderie.
What It Can Do Is Make Sharing A Poem A Breathtaking Moment.
It Makes Saying "Thank You,"
More Than An Expression,
It Makes It A Hand Trembling, Voice Wavering, Admission Of Love.
There Is No Way To Describe It Without Including The Unincludeable.
It Offers The Impossible As A Guarantee.
It Makes A Pronunciation Of A Common Word A Little More Complicated,
Fire Truck (Fuck Russell.)
It Is Taking A Nap.
Two Naps.
Too Many Naps.
It Is A Perfect Argument Against Peeping Toms Perverting Perfect Moments,
Champagne From The Bottle,
Waking Up To A Knock,
Or A Phone Call,
Confused, But Excited,
Preparing You For Another Remarkable,
Unbelievable Day.
It Is The Coming Together Of A Group,
Traveling Perfectly,
Enjoying Life Fully,
Embracing Laughter Bodily.
It Is Nothing More,
And Nothing Less,
Than Something That Is What It Is.
Not "A,"
But "The,"
Quadrafecta.

That dumb shit cat,
Broke into the garage,
And meowed all day,
Seemingly because,
It was too afraid of people,
To let me give it any help.
It crapped on the rug,
Went through the trash,
Got stuck in the wall,
And then refused to leave.
So at damn near midnight,
Armed with a maglite and a broom,
I finally proded that damn cat,
To leave that small dark room.

Chirping,
Perching,
Squawking,
Talking,
I hate all birds,
There is no stopping,
Pigeons,
Crows,
Robins,
Blue Jays,
Maybe I’m jealous,
Because I can’t fly.
Maybe I’m worried about,
A hummingbird beak in my eyes.
I don’t know,
I don’t care,
I don’t need to analyze it,
Just keep them away,
Or anesthetize all of them.
Parakeets,
McCaws,
Sparrows,
And finches especially.
Keep away bird feeders,
Destroy all their cages,
Something about them,
Sends me into rages.
I hate them.
I loathe them.
I think we don’t need them.
The albatross,
Seagull,
Turkey vulture,
And penguins,
Collect all their eggs,
Let’s have them for dinner,
Or ship them somewhere,
Where it’s permanent winter.
It doesn’t matter where they are,
Just so long as its not here.
No chickens,
No parrots,
No ostrich,
No flamingos,
No nothing,
Not ever,
I don’t want any of those.
I need my space,
Don’t want them flying into my windows,
Or pooping on shoulders.
I
HATE
BIRDS!

You know what’s weird?
Hmm,
Well I dunno what’s universally weird.
But I’d sure love to know,
What popped into your head just now,
I bet it was really weird.
Like,
The kinda weird you’d be uncomfortable sharing,
In a group of strangers.
The kinda weird,
That, that,
Rule 34 thing,
Is all about.
My guess is,
Whatever you thought about,
Isn’t half as weird as something I’ve done.
Definitely not as weird,
As something I’ve said.
Come to think of it,
This is pretty weird.
Hmm.
Go figure.

Milbrea first,
Then SFO,
Before you know it San Bruno.
South San Francisco,
Colma next,
Daly City is a popular dest…
…ination.
Balboa Park,
Her Brother Glen,
24th for all your Latin American needs,
16th for Hipsters and Weed.
Civic Center,
Better walk real fast,
Powell St watch your ass,
Montgomery is great,
Just not for dates…
Embarcadero is the last city stop,
Before all points east.
Richmond bound trains transfer at 19th,
For Pittsburgh/Bay Point stay on board,
Dublin Pleasanton?
You got the wrong train.
Fremont for the Southbound Chaps,
Switch at MacArthur,
You’ll be fine,
Thanks for your business,
We hope you enjoyed the ride.

This isn’t a metaphor,
I assure you.
I’m really going to do a poem about suspenders.
They hold your pants up.
See?
Not a metaphor.
Suspenders really hold pants up.
I’m not going to try to sneak in,
Some silly philosophy,
About life being pants,
And suspenders being some,
Some,
Some new approach to keeping yourself held up,
Despite the gravity of life,
Pulling you down.
I’m not going to relate,
The elasticity of suspenders,
To some yo-yo effect,
That most people,
Myself included,
Have in regard to their inner veracity.
No sir-e-bob.
When I wrote a poem about suspenders,
It’s only about the X shaped,
Single purpose,
Mono-functional adornment,
That helps to keep a persons pants up.
Well,
Sometimes I suppose people wear them for humors effect…
Like a bow tie.
But that,
My friends,
Would be a poem for another day.