Sole Days
those basketball shoes
black and white
hanging by shoe strings.
How did the pair get so much high?
Tossed up by how many hands
how many tries?
The length of a firefighters ladder
Is that a surprise?
Maybe the same height of an floor
apartment building
or a football field.
Who or what does it reveal
about the wearer?
Footwear adorned on a power wire
Seen in 90026 oh really
instead of 90057 that's typical
90027, 90029
90016 no doubt
90018 that's what is talked about
and 90019 and 90011 string
Zip codes don't infiltrate
those sneakers
the purchasers or thieves do
Street survival
and hustling is learned and earned
in addition to books smarts
in elementary school.
Bang, bang your dead
by gunshots
Fentanyl,
Crystal meth
By those tweakers
Those soles were once owned by someone
Did he or she meet their maker
And death was their fate?
For those running shoes
was not a willing partner of crime
for an attempt to escape?
Are those rubber kicks marking a territory?
Dogs hike their legs
and piss on
the roots of a tree.
The stench of the yellow river
don't forget about me.
A memorial of gang hanging
on a string
There's no 40 oz poured on the sidewalk.
A salt and pepper sky
blankets the city of Los Angeles
The owner is no longer alive.
Thanks To Jane and Me
Part 1
Her twinkling eyes were blue
like the London topaz
or tourmaline green.
Depending on what clothes
she wore. Thanks to
Jane and me.
Cantankerous in personality.
She told the truth.
Like it or lump it. When I
served meals in her room.
On good days
she would eat much food.
On bad days
she had the blues.
Arthritic cracks and creaks
of the knobby knees
from plies of ballerina dancing.
Take a toll as a two caregiver transfer
from the bed to the walker
is welcome and routine.
Her oxygen
nebulizer treatment
provided relief.
The eyes are
the windows
of your soul.
Part 2
Your hair is
your crown and glory.
For the Bible tells me so.
Her shoulder length hair,
snow gray strands of wisdom
softened her alabaster
and cafe au lait
colored facial profile,
her dimpled cheeks
and a cherub shaped chin.
At 90+ at times she
would put up a fuss
"Why are you here?"
"And what do you want?"
A med tech would say her name
To reply,
"It's time for your medication."
I'd tell her,
"It's your life's celebration."
I appreciate
Jane and me.
Part 3
Her eyeglasses reflected eyes
of wonder and tiredness.
She beamed with pride
about her grandchildren,
pruning her rose garden,
and made from scratch
Hungarian goulash.
"That's how you feed a man,
for the way thru a man's heart
is through his stomach."
Thanks again for
Jane and me.
Her gut was not
always illness free.
Chemo and radiation treatment
plagued her nauseously.
Hairbrushed strands came out in clumps.
Sadly her gut became thinner.
She gained mouth ulcers
and outer skin lumps.
So painful that
gently dressing her
flesh and bones
after a sponge bath
hurts too much.
Part 4
The Lord took her
one morning
as she slept
in her Lazy Boy easy chair.
Her shrunken aged body
covered with
a self knitted blanket
from decades ago.
Her window open,
with a cold subtle wind
Was that her spirit
departing the room?
No more hospice nurses
to provide palliative care.
The last curtain call
from her soul dance.
God's angels have released
your affliction. With his wings
in heaven you will soar.
I will miss Jane and me.
Longevity is not promised
and illnesses are the cost.
My heart will remember
the life lessons learned,
Rest In Heavenly Peace.
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