who shot bill mann?

lp and i grabbed a slice at ray's. and headed to midway for a beer and a friend's show. only to find that our friend wasn't among the evening's artists after all. or was he? as he got up on stage, he introduced himself . . . by another name. lp and i could only exchange inquisitive glances. and conspiracy theories.

leaving midway, lp suggested a cup of coffee. strolling from the alphabets toward the east village, we were prepared for a short walk. only to find that many local coffee shops had been closed. another twist in our evening's events. amidst all of this strangeness, lp warned that he may rip his clothes off and begin barking at the moon. i could only respond that it would seem fitting given the evening. and his history of being such a captivating companion. always dynamic and magnetic. this is something i figured out long ago.

but we found a place. for a little pick me up. and grabbed a table outside. lp walked our lattes to the sidewalk. and we settled in for good conversation and good people watching. and we didn't wait long for either.

soon after cozying up to our drinks, tony walked up. a small, talkative black man with a very small radio that was no more than 6 inches long. he interrupted us saying, "this next song goes out to you two." and - as if on cue - marvin gaye's "mercy, mercy me" began crooning from the unimposing radio as tony carefully perched it on our table. gently adjusting the antenna.

lp and i were instantly engaged. and before we knew it, tony, lp, and i were huddled together around the radio singing along. snapping our fingers. our bodies swaying to the music. . .

". . . ooh, mercy mercy me. . . oh, things ain't what they used to be . . . nooo, no . . . "

lp offered tony a dollar to leave the radio with us until the end of the song. tony bargained that the slice of pizza he'd been eying would cost $2. so i pitched in the second. introductions followed. shaking hands as he reminisced about seeing marvin gaye. and curtis mayfield. and smokey robinson and the miracles. and all the rest of those legends. live and in concert. he began passionately belting out some of his favorite tunes. some we knew. some we didn't. some we belted with him. some we didn't. the song had ended. and tony was hungry. so he thanked us. and we thanked him.

and as lp and i returned to conversation - feeling brightened from tony's company - lp looked passed me. casually nodding his head, saying, "geesh. look at those clowns." i nonchalantly turned my head. and there on the corner. were indeed two face-painted clowns. in character. miming. and disrupting those around them with some trippy routine. lp and i stared at the clowns and then each other with dumbfounded and incredulous expressions. and began laughing.

lp observed, "i don't know if they're on drugs. . . or if they're trying to make me feel like I'M on drugs."

it's a tough call. especially in this neighborhood.

long time gone

he taught gregory corso as genius.
asking "should i get married? should i be good?"
books. ideas. thoughts. were opened wide with curiosity.

he defined "but i digress."
and proved that bitter can be funny. very funny.
and that talking fast doesn't have to mean you're a fast talker.

he laughed at those cornhuskers.
and the girls in their pearls.

he said it's ok to swear.
just make us feel how much you mean it.

he taught me to dance on the grave of a son of a bitch.
with my eyes closed.
and to love every minute of it.

he taught me to go for what i never knew i always wanted.
that i'll be ok. i'll get where i'm going.
and that i can go anywhere.

did you ever have one of those?
i had a good one.

chiropractors + sunshine

= happiness.

bronx tumbleweed

a perfect bright warm spring afternoon.
eating lunch on a playground.
on a rooftop.

secluded escape. brief serenity.

a pause in conversation.

and a large garbage bag goes drifting. rustling.
sweeping passed. here and there. lifted by the breeze.
dark. billowy. pillowy.

and all eyes have grown wide. closely tracking its path. as it lazily rolls by.

in the southwest they have tumbleweeds.
here in the bronx. we have tumbling trash.