I was raised in the shoe family of Januzzi's Shoes. The ditty on the radio in the 80's went something like this: "All over the street, to happy feet. Get your shoozies at Januzzi's."

For some, they put on their writer's hat. For me, I wear my writer's shoes.


Wednesday, March 12, 2014

White Space


I liked it better
when the “feel better” bags
on airlines
were made from paper
and not plastic
as I root for an object
to become the target of my pen.
Me, writer, no paper.
Often I resort to this,
backside of the drycleaning slip,
margins of the trailing grocery store receipt.
But I am trying to capture
a fleeting thought
one that will not wait
and so
the Tag Heuer wristwatch ad wins.
Only such an expense
could afford white open expanse
to promote a black onyx face
and leather strap.

But here is what I want to say
as I sit in proximity
to an Asian woman.
I can see into her ears.
Yes, she is that close.
Yes, she cleaned them this morn.
The side of her face is dotted with
age spots I am trying to rid of myself.
Earlier she was reading
symbols that ran up and down
on a page. I am trying to see
if the corners of her eyes
slant up or down.

I am looking over her arms
when she retrieves her boarding pass
to read her name
but she is sly this way.
I do not see a name.
If I did, I cannot recall.
Is it, a short name is Chinese,
long is from Japan?
I don’t know why
I am desperate to know.
She too is writing - in a journal.
She is more organized. I am Italian,
I go in fits and starts. But I ask,
reflecting on her race,
if as the Atheist claims,
we did not all come from one race
then how is it,
she closes her eyes
bundles beneath a blanket.
I close mine, cuddled in my scarf,
and we both fall sweetly in slumber.

How could be not alike?



Inspired by the woman sitting next to me, and the Creationism vs Bill Nye debate

2/6/2014

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