but I won’t delete it because it isn’t boring

me.

I am in love with THIS

MACHINE

see what it can do

now let’s get back to

work.

safe

the house next door makes me

sad.

both man and wife rise early and

go to work.

they arrive home in early evening.

they have a young boy and a girl.

by 9 p.m. all the lights in the house

are out.

the next morning both man and

wife rise early again and go to

work.

they return in early evening.

by 9 p.m. all the lights are

out.

the house next door makes me

sad.

the people are nice people, I

like them.

but I feel them drowning.

and I can’t save them.

they are surviving.

they are not

homeless.

but the price is

terrible.

sometimes during the day

I will look at the house

and the house will look at

me

and the house will

weep, yes, it does, I

feel it.

the house is sad for the people living

there

and I am too

and we look at each other

and cars go up and down the

street,

boats cross the harbor

and the tall palms poke

at the sky

and tonight at 9 p.m.

the lights will go out,

and not only in that

house

and not only in this

city.

safe lives hiding,

almost

stopped,

the breathing of

bodies and little

else.

3 blacks

it’s midway through the card at the

track.

I am standing at a table,

getting my figures ready for the

next race.

I see them approaching,

coming down the

aisle.

the biggest one is

nearest me.

as he walks by

he gives me a bit of

elbow.

they keep walking on.

then the big one turns,

looks back

to see how I will react.

his face is blank as he

looks.

mine is blank.

he turns and walks on.

something about me bothered

him:

white skin.

brother, that’s just the way it

is.

you drive a car?

what color is it?

don’t blame the

car.

life like a big tender glove

old guy, small, maybe 67 but his hair is

pure white, it’s the best part of him.

he carries coffee in a styrofoam cup.

he is moving toward his seat.

he is known to his seated compatriots.

“what I like about you fellows is you have a

sense of humor.”

“screw you, Eddie,” one of them answers.

he sits down with them.

“anybody here need a wife?”

“not yours, Eddie.”

they are silent then.

it’s 15 minutes to post time.

they study their Racing Forms.

all I can see from where I sit is the backs of

their necks, their old coats.

I don’t know why but they remind me of

birds on a wire.

they are there 5 days a week.

God Bless America.

I get up and head toward the men’s room,

thinking,

guess my father would have never guessed I’d