Surf Music
Walking the beach in Rye, New Hampshire,
I stopped and sat on a big, flat rock and
read some Jack Kerouac poetry,
and then I got high with a surfer
who looked like Jason Momoa—
long, dark wild hair, scruffy beard,
and kind eyes.
I told him I usually only smoked weed
when I listened to live music—
he smiled and looked out at the ocean.
“This is the best live music there is,”
he said.
.
The Lowlands Bar in Brooklyn
The oldest woman in the world, probably,
just barely over four feet tall,
so shriveled she looks like a quilted doll.
So determined, struggling with her walker,
still needing the help of a scruffy, bearded dude
to push her up the sidewalk steps,
and into the Lowlands Bar—
her goal, her quest, the goal that keeps her fighting.
And so, I decide, that must be
one hell of a good bar.
.
Tiny Man
In the Rite Aid parking lot
I saw a guy—a super small guy—
three feet tall, at the most.
His face was tiny,
kind of scrunched up—
it was like a monkey’s face.
I did a double take—
to see if he might actually be a child.
No—he was definitely an adult.
He was pushing a shopping cart,
struggling to reach the handle.
I must have stared at him
longer than I should have.
I took a step toward him,
and said: “Hey, need a hand?”
He just snarled at me,
and said, “Fuck off.”
Now he’s my hero.
.
Stink Eye Magazine 