3 holiday snaps

the memories are allowed again, warm sidewalk
squint gabled crouch on the dirt
another day as an attraction, as a hotcat in the tincan

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so charmed with bubbled water loose on the bicep
embracing after the years he contacted me when i whispered
poetry into an airpocket
remembering my name

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damn, it doesn't feel like America
we all jostle together in a pack of cigarettes
and the wild boy beauty flashing the heel says
he doesn't think so either, mostly it's just a par course
for low flying jetpilots
and the idle panic of rice and beans
that is one swell dish. and we all laugh
the 5 gin and tonics making him the tallest voice in the gunrack
that warm sunday night