Hurricane

The wind is whipping past my face carrying painful lashings from strands of hair that have become weapons in this icy late Spring  storm. It's telling me I have no business being in love. No business feeling angst. No business feeling loss. No business longing. Leave. Leave little silly child. Travel on... You're hanging on too long... It's time to say goodbye. Time to hurt and be hurt. But most of all, it's time to say goodbye....

Bronx tattles

Old man Henry called out my soul tonight. He said I was searching for something. I think he's right. It's that Bronx wisdom mingling with the liquor that pumps through his veins. But he sees something nobody else does as I sit sipping a glass of wine waiting for the table to clear. It could be only he sees it because nobody else's cares. I want to tell him my heart is in pieces and I don't know why. I want to tell him asking why only makes it worse. But it's not him I want to talk to. So I tell him a lie. I tell him I'm fine.