My Pharmacist

My pharmacist

Has been a life-saver lately

And not in the usual ways

I worry he thinks

I have some sort of problem

Because I’m constantly going in

Making conversation

That’s why I’m consulting you

Because I’d love to ask him
Out for a drink

But I’m not sure

If that’s a conflict of interest

Why yes, I understand

That you’re a mailman

But you’re my mailman

And so I need to know

If you’d have a problem

With me asking you out

Granted, I have no intention

Of asking you out

But were I to do so

Would you mind?

I’m trying to gauge

How everyone in my life feels

About the possibility

Of romance with me

Never would I have dreamt

That one day

Entering a Walgreens

Would make my heart flutter

But, you know, when you get to be my age

You learn to leave room for love

Wherever it feels most comfortable

I remember when I met my husband

He was pumping gas

At this station I used to go to

Because everybody else

Had switched to self-service

Which I found abominable

He asked if I wanted regular

Or unleaded

And the next thing I knew

He was Husband #8

People are always looking

For the love of their life

And I’m looking for the love

That life presents me

In the moment

How am I supposed to know

If I’m going to love you

In twenty years?

And why should I care?

I think it’s kind of fun

Not knowing how the movie

Is going to end

And if it ends

A little sooner than I expected

That just means

I can have an extra cocktail
At the bar

And speaking of cocktails

I bet my pharmacist

Can make a mean one

Anyone who can put together

A proper prescription

And do it with a smile

Must be able to make

A mean little drink

Wouldn’t you say?

My plan is to take him on my boat

With his lab coat on

And ask him which one of my doctors

Has the worst handwriting

I love a man with discernment

And you need that

When you’re in love

With someone like me

I’m constantly in need

Of discerning

Perhaps I’ll write him

A lovely note

With calligraphy

Supplied by my gardener

Who has the most gorgeous

Penmanship

I think involving as many people

As possible

In your love story

Is the only way

To ensure peak swoonage

Yes, I’ll take that package from you

But I refuse to sign for it

Until you give me

Your uncensored opinion

On the matter

What?

You did want me

To start an affair with you?

My god, sometimes

I don’t realize my own power

Well, I suppose the pharmacist can wait

Love the one you’re with
As I always say

And I do so love the mail

I just love a man

You can count on

No matter what

The Story of Hina

There was a very tired lady

And her name was Hina

Every day she did her chores

And every night

It took all the strength she had

Just to bring water

Into her home

Hina’s husband had a foul humor

And refused to help her

With any of her work

Her son had become a rogue

And he spent his days

Sailing from island-to-island

Thieving and robbing

Hina’s daughter ran off

Into the trees

And now she lives

With the wildest people

In all of Hawaii

One day, Hina was fishing

So that she could make herself

And her ill-tempered husband

A dinner for that night

She said a silent prayer

That sometime soon
She would be able to rest

And the Rainbow over the water

Heard her prayer

And sent down a path

That led up into the sky

Hina thought that path

Might take her

Past the clouds

Into the Heavens

And beyond the Sun

Instead, she followed

The arch of the Rainbow

And when she passed the clouds

She found that she was still

Underneath the beating sun

And the rays were warming her shoulders

And exhausting her

She hoped that she might find

More clouds to cover her

But it was just her and the Sun

And she found herself crawling

Along the Rainbow

Until it went back down to Earth

From there, she lay back

On the surface

Of the cool water

And when she had managed

To catch a fish or two

She made her way back home

Her husband was very cross with her

For not being around

To cook dinner on time

Or bring water into the house

With the sun no longer

Paining her

She looked up

And saw the Moon

Realizing that she had simply

Made her trek too soon

Without the heat of the Sun

She could make her way

Up to her true destiny

Among the Stars

She went running

Back to the water

And there was the heavenly road

The Rainbow had left for her

Hina began the climb

Back up the path

But her husband was chasing after her

He grabbed at her foot

And injured her

But she managed

To kick him off

And he fell down, down, down

Into the water

And was never seen again

Hina kept climbing

And without the sunbeams

To beat her back
She made it

All the way up

To the brightest constellation

In the sky

Her foot was forever scarred

From where her husband grabbed her

But that made her easy to find in the sky

When Hawaiians were looking up

For inspiration

Up next to the moon

Is Hina the Happy Woman

Who holds nothing

But a bowl she managed

To grab from her home

As she was leaving

That had only her most prized

Possessions in it

Though she will never have much

She will have made it

To the stars

Hina reminds the people below

That they need not

Stay where they are

And be treated poorly

If only they’re willing

To go back to the path

And begin another climb

The Poster Boy

The Poster Boy is peeling

Off the wall

He’s yet to comb his hair

And while he’s told

It’s a look

It keeps getting

In his eyes

The dust piles up

Around the bedroom

Because now

It’s someone’s old bedroom

Instead of an active bedroom

Which means

There is no bed

Or bureau

But somebody forgot

To take the posters

Down off the wall

The butterscotch spots

Where the taped

Used to hold up

The movie stars

And musicians

Are proof positive

That nothing will stick forever

And the Poster Boy

Knows this

He hears the sound

The other posters make

When they slide

Down to the carpet

Every few weeks

Or months

Somebody comes in

Picks them up
Rips them in half

And throws them in a trash bag

But nobody takes down

The Poster Boy

And there are days

Where he almost wishes

They would

Because he can remember

When there was loud music

And pizza spilling

And Italian homework

And phone calls that went on

Until somebody yelled

That they weren’t made of money

And to free up the line

But summers cooled

And winters waned

And when furniture began

To dust up

And then disappear

The Poster Boy noticed

That nobody was looking at him

And no new posters

Were going up

At one point

You couldn’t even see the walls

So littered they were

With advertisements

For youth and beauty

But youth is dismissed

By the young

While they’re still young

And beauty loses its attraction

Once it passes

Attainability

The Poster Boy waited

Until the house was sold

In favor of a place close enough

To the ocean

In Southern Florida

Before he came down

Off the wall

He didn’t want to be

Torn asunder

And tossed

Into the waste bin

That meant stepping out

Of a flat surface

A photo from 2004

That was shot by a photographer

Who would go on

To become a successful filmmaker

But would eventually

Die in a car crash

Before winning a posthumous Oscar

The Poster Boy left the bedroom

Without a bed

And made his way

Out of the house

That no one was living in

And out onto the street

Late at night, it’s hard to tell

What time it is

Especially on a street

Where nothing’s changed

In thirty years

Some have moved away

Some have stayed

But so many walls are bare

Where there used to be photos

And decoration

And wallpaper

The Poster Boy isn’t sure

What he used to represent

Other than a talent

That is no longer admired

He walks past

Every mailbox on the street

Stopping only once

To see if there
Was any mail

That hadn’t been

Retrieved

The Submarine Is Running Out of Air

The submarine is running

Out of air

I haven’t told the crew

Because I’m not sure

How we can fix this

Problems have solutions

But every so often

A problem comes along

That does not have a solution
And when that happens

One has to wonder

What the wisdom would be

In alerting a lot of people

To the problem

The conventional way of thinking

Would be that the more people you alert

The more opportunities you have

To find a solution

Because you’ll have more brains

Working on it

But you’re also adding panic

More panic

To the situation

And I worry about that

I worry about the panic

That comes with transparency

Sometimes--

Do you have a moment?

I just need a moment

Before I go back to

Worrying about the air

Sometimes when people

Get in trouble

And it’s due to a lack

Of transparency

The presumption is

That the person is sinister

That they enjoy hiding things

Or they’re fearful of repercussions

For what they’re hiding

When sometimes--

And not often

But sometimes

Sometimes they know

That revealing things

Creates panic

And you don’t want panic

On a submarine

You don’t want panic anywhere

But you really don’t want it

On a submarine

Especially when you’re running

Out of air

Because panic sucks up

Every more air

And before you know it

Your effort to be forthright

Will have caused the problem

To exacerbate

And we don’t want that, do we?

I shouldn’t even be talking this loud

Somebody might hear me

How strange that we all might die

Of oxygen deprivation

On a submarine

While still staying completely dry

There’s no water coming in

And this vehicle is constructed so well

We may just sink to the bottom

Of the ocean

Once there’s nobody keeping us mobilized

But the sub might stay intact

So it’ll just be a submarine

Filled with skeletons eventually

Like something of a coffin

It’s almost romantic

If you think about it

Although I’d rather not

Because I’ll be one

Of the skeletons

I think about telling the story

As an outside narrator

And how if I were

An outside narrator

I’d be safe and sound

Feeling bad

For all those poor folks

On the submarine

That’s running out of air

Most of them won’t even know it

Until it’s too late

Because they’ll be asleep
And they’ll simply

Never wake up

I wonder if I could go to sleep

Just close my eyes

And wait for the inevitable

But, you see, I’ve always

Had trouble sleeping

And I’m not sure

If science tells us

That a lack of oxygen

Would help

I just don’t want

To gasp and grab

For air

Right before I die

I want to go quietly

Throughout my life

I’ve always

Valued

The quiet