Just Taking a Walk in the Neighbrohood

I was listening to a some Tom Waits the other day,

puts me in a certain frame of mind,

if you know, you know what I mean,

you know what I want to say,

so I just listen to the blues and try to find my way.


I was thinking just the other day, about a neighbor,

someone I know, they know me,

we all seem to know each other,

especially when we do have that chance,

the rare opportunity to say hello, a courtesy.


See it is not as much about the neighbor as it is,

each other, all of us, walking around

today, tomorrow, any other day,

it’s about the wonder of our lives,

whose do we touch, and will they every touch ours.


I’m sitting in a coffee shop, still listening to the blues,

Tom Waits kind of sets the tone,

for your day, for some of you the week,

like sitting in an old rusty bar,

and he steps out of the blind with a guitar.


We all do walk the same neighborhood, together,

oh we carry our crosses, for some it is

that famous albatross from an old piece of


I believe it was Coleridge, one of the dead guys.


Point is the music continues, the riffs, the melodies,

the lyrics that seem to so mellow, haunt our lives,

so we can all believe in it together,

we do love to feel, to believe, to wonder, to wish,

perhaps walk the same paths we all would wish to choose.

That’s Just It

What defines us?

Saw a Porsche on the avenue,

sleek gray with rimless wheels,

the driver appeared to be, human.

Headphones, coffee and laptops

and everyone alone


unless souls revealed, found out.

I sent you positive energy the other day

did you get it?

Remember that time they all meant complete control

over your psyche,

no muscle could be tweaked until their eyes left.

Saw you again the other night

with your friends,

laughing and looking around

in that elegant pose:

I was the guy over in the corner that

wanted to be forgotten about

before anyone noticed.

Did you see me?

How funny a given moment can be

when in the grand scheme of things

all that we wish upon becomes

simple fact, distant truth, vague reality.

That’s just it,

I heard her say the other day

when trying to recall

just how forgotten about that moment

became that one night,

when in the bar,

he stood nearby

but didn’t say a word,

rather instead tried to act as if he didn’t really care.

That’s just it.


Nancy’s Glance



Whispers wind and weave

Yet the winds are still

While we may weep

By love’s anguish

Soften by memory

Of a beautiful smile

A lending grace

Cherish that moment

When love reminds us all

Of simpler sounds in laughter

Time is her marathon

And she will lead

In quiet mystique

Let confusion be resolved

By her dignity; that elegance

A spiritual journey

Beckons our lives and conscience

To understand pain’s

New state of mind


The winds

Murmur inaudible words

In mirrors

Life remains

To forgive

That clarity obscured

Beauty is Nancy’s Glance

Her smile

Her earth now Surreal

And tears remain

Our symbolic reckoning


Inside that runner’s dream

Her silent sojourn begins.





Dedicated to the life and memory of Nancy Gee