doug draime

Jimmy the toad

They said I was
babbling incoherently
and swinging at
anyone
who got within
5 feet of me.
No one in the bar
at the time,
could handle
the situation.
And Maxine ran
next door to
Ray’s Market
and got my friend
Jimmy the Toad.
All I know
is when I woke up
in the hospital
with a broken nose
and 2 cracked ribs,
Jimmy was leaning
over me
crying
and apologizing
for using a little
too much force,
offering me
a bowl of
orange sherbet

cop with the burnt face

1
half of his face had
the mark of a fire
which burnt it
a cherry red and
half his mouth
scared into a harelip


2
the cop with the swagger
and billy club held tightly
for maximum pain, moving
toward me quickly with serious
intent, it was clear, his eyes
blank and trancelike...
but focused on my
handsome and unscathed face

resting aging bones

I really was attempting to
pay attention,
the best I could, to focus
on the young poet
reading his poems.
I hadn’t sleep well
in several days, my legs
aching from all
the walking
I was doing looking for
some kind of work.
48, let me clue you in,
is no age to be
without income and
nowhere to go
to call your own.

I needed to place to sit down
and rest for awhile.
The poet was trying
to be poetic, his poems
full of run of the mill
similes, that contained
no fortitude
of spirit, or passion.
And I’m sorry to say,
I fell into
a deep sleep.
I don’t know for how long,
but a college coed
stinking of patchouli oil and
sweat, shock me awake.
“You’re snoring. That’s really
rude.” she said.
I looked up and the poet
was glaring
at me.
All 20 eyes of the 10 people
sitting in the
folding chairs
were glaring at me

I said, nodding at the poet,
“Sorry about that. Good luck
with those similes, kid.”
And I got up and walked

out of the bookstore
and down the street
to the nearest bar,
where I ordered
a small pitcher of beer
with $3 of
my last $10.
I found a table in the corner,
sat down
and immediately
fell back to sleep.
Karen, the bartender,
was kind enough to let me
snooze till
closing time.