Pick It Up

A penny not picked up

is a missed opportunity.

To do what?

An opportunity to bend the back

and look deeply into the earth.

A chance to add one-tenth of a dollar

to your meager coffers.

Perhaps a penny not picked up

is a chance to pass a wish onto someone else.

There’s always more pennies.


Walking home at night

the branch of a large tree blocks my passage.

Rain-slicked and cool to the touch,

a London Plane perhaps?


My name is Todd.

Will you give me the road?

I mount the fallen limb,

careful to swing one leg over at a time.

Walking away, I wonder,

Is this it?


What the Nighttime Said

Comes to me at while I’m sleeping.

Whispers into my ear

a plaintive singsong:

“Moving water never grows stale.”

So I begin to kick my legs.

This wakes my partner up.

What are you doing? She asks.

Just flowing, I say.

You’re fidgeting. Be still.

Very well.

Sweet Thames (East River), run softly, till I end my song.


All My Saturdays

We went down to the Navy Yards yesterday and fed the feral cats. Our favorite was a large Tabby the size of a small mountain lion. A large orange cat sneaked through a hole in the fencing and made like he wanted to come home with us.

I tried to convince Chelsea to climb the fence with me but she refused. I’m not sure it was a genuine offer anyway.

Later, we bought a bottle of champagne from Diego and walked to Fort Greene Park to enjoy the sunshine. Unlike the poor slobs forced to lay on the ground, we took the sun as we swung in our hammock.

I reminded Chelsea that this was one of only 52 Saturdays in the year.