OLD GUY WITH THE NICE POOL

“I want you to be concerned about your next door neighbor.

Do you know your next door neighbor?”- Mother Teresa

Red lights splashed into all of our back yards,

guessed it was the old guy with the nice pool,

but it was his wife, a loud lady I talked to once.

She suffered a heart attack and died. He’s been

alone for ten or twelve years now and for hours

he sits watching TV on the back porch, I’d hear

MASH, CNN, John Wayne westerns, war movies.

His pool always crystal clear, open Memorial Day,

closed on Labor Day, check the calendar and see

the trampoline-like green cover perfectly placed.

He moved slower, didn’t swim, watched more TV.

Had less pool parties with his family and last winter

a sign went up on his lawn, the house sold quick,

luckier than most who have been trying to leave.

Another neighbor says, “His kids got him to sell and

moved him to assisted living, on his first night there,

he got out of bed, tripped on the rug, broke his leg.

Doctors find he’s filled with cancer. Three weeks later

around Christmas, he’s gone. Dead. Jack was his name”.

PRICE PLUS

Did you find everything you were looking for?

Are there any items on the bottom of your cart?

Do you have any coupons or a Price Plus card?

The 3 questions cashiers always ask at this store,

they must train them to say it before they start.

Did you find everything you were looking for?

Shopping for groceries shouldn’t be this hard,

displays and selfish customers block the aisles.

Are there any items on the bottom of your cart?

I spent $200 without a single package of meat,

the lady with food stamps buys T-bone steaks.

Do you have any coupons or a Price Plus card?

SET YOUR ALARM

and get up when it goes off is what he says.

But I roll over to go back to sleep every time.

I promise to get up; I even say that I am up.

I pull the covers over my head. I get up finally.

We argue because I don’t have my bag packed

and I need to print an assignment for school.

I stay in the bathroom too long, fixing my hair.

He announces the time to me every five minutes.

I can’t figure out what to wear, I change my shirt.

He yells when I pause to select a song on my iPod.

I forget my keys. My cell phone is uncharged.

I forget to bring the note I need to give a teacher.

I miss the bus and don’t have time to eat breakfast.

I eat a cold pop tart and drink an iced tea drink box

while he drives me to school, he doesn’t talk to me

but says, “the Breakfast of Losers, not champions”.

I sit silently when he tells me all I have to do is

get up ten minutes earlier to fix all these things.

I look out the window when he says to me-

“No telling how many planes and trains you’ll miss.”

I reply with, “Yeah, I know” but we both know

how tomorrow will probably be more of the same.

Most times, I say “Love you Dad” when I get out.

Most times, he says “Love you too, have a good day”.

SAFE FOLLOWING DISTANCE

is important when driving on any road,
like when the NJ Turnpike goes down to
three lanes- semis, cars, and buses flow
together at 65 miles per hour all at once.

In Driver’s Ed, they said something about
counting telephone poles to find out how
many feet you need to stop the car and
how braking on rain slicked roads was worse.

And when you don’t see the bumper or plates
of the guy behind you, then he’s way too close.
Mr. Wuzzardo wasn’t their instructor but surely
the lessons should be the same and kept simple.

Aggressive drivers cut in front of him, weaving,
taking away his optimum following distance.
Is it any wonder why people get killed here is
what he tells his wife, who insists he stops cursing.

He imagines having laser blasters on the hood
like Star Wars or a machine gun mounted on the back
like Jeeps from the old show, Rat Patrol or like the
biplanes they saw in the Air and Space Museum.

His son thinks lasers would cause too much of
an explosion, a gun would spray bullets all over,
possibly hitting innocent people who are safe drivers.
They agree it should be a disintegration ray, one that
would attack the atoms of an SUV and driver making them
disappear into thin air, no mess, no fire, no guilty feeling.

ABDUCTION SCENARIO

They imagined a break in, an abduction,
figured a young woman had been snatched
while loading her groceries and thrown into
an old pervert’s panel van to be a sex slave.
They’d called the police and waited for him.
Two Shop-Rite grocery store workers, serving as
crime stoppers, neighborhood watch, good citizens.
Looks of disappointment feel on their faces as
I walked to my Jeep with its passenger door open.
They commented on the fact that I was a guy.
I told them how I loaded up my groceries but
must’ve forgotten to close a door when I ran into
the Pet Store. Last week I’d done the same thing
at work, but without so much uproar or drama.
They explained how they’re prepared for this,
what they thought happened, how they got cameras,
how I couldn’t leave, I’d have to prove it was my car.
When the cop rolled up, he didn’t want to see papers,
he knew it was just a case of an absent minded guy
who didn’t close a car door and a couple of grocery store
workers who'd watched too much Law and Order or CSI
hoping to be part of something big this Saturday morning.

TELL ME WHY

That old guy stands near this busy highway
in his layers of shabby unmatched clothes.
Always on the small little sidewalk staring
at televisions hanging high above the bar
in this happening place with a trendy name.
It’s a bar where cool people go after work to
take advantage of Happy Hour Drink Specials.
Think there’s something wrong with him?
We see him here many afternoons in the rain,
the blazing hot sun, for almost a year now.
Sometimes he’s scratching his unruly beard,
or rubbing his jacked up hair with his ashy hands
while watching a football or basketball game.
After hearing me wonder, my son says so sincerely-
“Tell me why they just don’t ask him to come in.”

WHY DO WE HAVE TO RAKE LEAVES?

I understand the whole process of the leaves
changing colors and somebody said they aren’t
really green anyway, but chlorophyll made by
long hours of sunshine makes them go green.
Their true colors are red, yellow, and orange.
I think what it’d be like if they stayed that way.

Somebody said when leaves fall, trees are making
a blanket to protect their roots through the winter
and when they rot it makes a fertilizer for the tree!
Makes me wonder who came to the conclusion that
the leaves should be raked, bagged, hauled away.

Why don’t we let them keep their warm blankets?
Why do we deny them their midwinter meals?
Because it’d kill the front lawn if we left it down.
Kill it more? It’s been dead since June, when it
burned up in the hot sun. Droughts and being away
on vacation has a way of destroying it every year.

LOOKING FOR IMPROVEMENT

at the Home Depot on Route 9
trying to fix up his little home,
it’s not worth what it used to be.
Finally a decision was made, since
The Economy is rough now, just stay.
“If we stay, we fix it up”, said his wife.
In each aisle he thought about what to get.
A Rustic Iron Hampton Bay fan and light,
glazed porcelain tile in soothing Earth tones,
some easy install Resilient Interlocking Planks?
The 12 x 12 Catalina Canyon Tile is awesome.
Oak Artisan Laminate floors- even better and
like the sign says, Your ideas become reality.
Carpet stair treads with double stick tape,
Roughneck Totes to store summer clothes,
rod and finial sets for living room curtains.
Purple violets for 2.99, but they look sickly.
Anderson Windows would look great, that sign
says, They’re the Windows that More Builders Buy.
Pink Fiberglass rolled out in the attic saves heat.
New numbers, a nine and a one in simulated pewter.
A new porch light has been needed for a while.
Caulk for the tub, since it’s always mildewed.
He walked through the lumber section even though
he didn’t need wood, the smell reminded him
of Junior High wood shop class with Mr. Kelly
where he made bookends and a napkin holder.
The possibilities are endless, alls you need is money.

DRIVE THRU NATION

Circle the lot in your Yukons, Escalades, and Armadas.
Cell phones in hand, waiting for the pampered ones
to call and tell you to drive up and get them at the door.

Your children are not made of tough metal or strong fiber.
They’re made of silk, rayon, or that Under Armor material.
Surely they’ll melt like pink and blue circus cotton candy.

Circle the lot in your Caravans, Siennas, and Voyagers.
Dart through the lanes of the congested school parking lot
you’re on a mission to an uninhabited planet, a quest.

The sons are daughters are inside the building, taking exams
to get into the colleges of their dreams, not the in-state
affordable ones that you like, but the fun,out-of-state party schools.

I park my Jeep at the back of the lot; zip up my rain coat,
pull my cap down over my head and go for a stroll in the rain.
Smiling, I wave and yell, “Don’t worry son, after all- it’s only water.”

Image from Google search - http://90ways.com/images/Crit/escalade.jpg

HOW TO WAVE

I wave to my neighbor across the street ,
he’s been there for six or seven years,
but I don’t know his name, his story.
We smile, make small talk about weather
as we shovel out the cars in our driveways
from the latest snowstorm, that’s it though.

I remember back when, everyone made
an effort to know the neighbors, I could drive
down the block today and point at the houses
and tell you the family names that are gone now
from the neighborhood where I come from.

There’s a white stucco half a double, just around
the corner, not far from my grandparent’s house.
People took a liking to the lady who lived there,
looked out for her, made her one of the family.

A widow, no kids, no relation to anyone, but when
mothers walked babies in strollers and carriages
Mrs. Wallace made conversation, admired babies,
spoke about living each day, enjoying the little ones.

Don’t remember who started it, we all called her
Aunt Helen, the lady who taught us how to say hi,
and how to wave. As we grew older she invited us
in to her home with candy dishes on every table.
We’d lift the noisy lids,find York Peppermint Patties,
Canada Mints, jelly fruit slices, Reesey cups, Wilbur Buds.

On a hot day, she poured ice water from old orange juice
bottles, tall, thick with an icy texture and an indented side.
We’d step on the pedal of a shiny chrome trash to open
the lid and throw out our little pastel colored Dixie cups.

On the screen porch, in back, clay pots all shapes and sizes
lined the edges of the room soaking in sunshine. In the
backyard was a closed down pool, with massive cracked
a concrete wall, piles of dirt, leaves floating in a foot of water.
We’d ask now and then, why doesn’t anyone use that pool?

When she passed, they explained to all of us kids,
who ranged from four to twelve, she went to Heaven
back then they simply told kids, “She died of old age”.
At the funeral, our first funeral, we all walked up
for the final viewing of the woman who had taught
us all how to wave hello and how to say good bye.

ALARM CLOCK

How times have changed for me,
each morning the Blackberry plays
the song “It’s a Great Day to Be Alive”.
I’ve set it this way as a little prayer to
begin another hectic day and to remind
me to be thankful to be able to walk out
of bed and get ready for work once again.
My wife says I ought to change the song,
"You won’t like it anymore, if you hear it
every day", and I just laugh and tell her
that she should know me better than that.

NATURAL BORN KILLER

For a week, he sat on my chair listening to
scratching under the front porch steps and
when it’s in the twenties outside, little animals
try to come in to eat, to get warm, to survive
the harsh January weather of a Jersey winter.

My wife says it must be a chipmunk, the ones
we always see scurrying around in summer.
But the cat and I think it’s got to be a mouse.
Early this morning, I’m up before everyone else
and I hear that old cat running around the house
banging into furniture, batting at the curtains,
scampering in short bursts through the kitchen.

And when I decide to check it out, I find him
sitting calmly, staring at the lifeless gray body
of the mouse, and my cat looks disappointed
that the game is over, not knowing he’s made
his first kill after nine years of never going
outside and always eating the same dry pet food.

Instincts from thousands of years of mouse catching
were summoned this morning and to think he did
it without having any claws on his front set of paws.

DISCO SHOPPING

You rush for the last few items
as the 24 hour A&P grocery store
announces to a handful of shoppers
that they’ll be closing in 20 minutes.
A moment ago, unknowingly you
strolled through the aisles, carefully
selecting cans of Mexicana corn,
coffee that was on sale, rye bread,
gallons of green tea, sweet mustard.
You were happy then, drumming
on the cart’s handle, whistling and
enjoying the Knock on Wood song
like never before because it has
a whole new meaning now, a history.