THE

FLEETING

SIDEWALK

a stranger 

tossing you roses 

through the window  

of his beat-up Buick,

vanishes in traffic 

wishing you 

a lovely evening

-lovely evening to you too

pray 

for the life 

of a firecracker 

thrown into the sky 

in the shape of a pyramid

by the first teenage husband,

an artist in the Adirondacks, 

last summer of the century

THE INDEPENDENCE DAY 

TUESDAY

I got a haircut which was suppose to be a slight trim 

but turned out to be a radical cut, went to a reception 

where a great artist was exhibiting his work to a crowd  

that was trying to get laid. We moved our tusa* to the 

Russian Vodka Room where our humble table of three

became a boisterous gala of party promoters, journalists, 

glorified schizophrenics, their under-aged girlfriends

and unemployed wives. I saw a beautiful man walk in 

like a yuppie and become a car-chasing, girl-grabbing, 

singing, sobbing drunkard and a piano player performing

Moscow Nights told me to stop pretending to be stupid.

At the end of it all, we took a cab home together - me,

Natasha and Dennis, who were both tired of this life 

and really wanted to get married, just not to each other

tusa -  party, in Russian; (short for tusovka)

EDGAR SHAMBLE

met an infamous poet for coffee,

at 2 o’clock in the afternoon he 

ordered vodka with mineral water, 

at 3 o’clock it was vodka straight up, 

at 4 o’clock he could not stand it anymore, 

took a flask of brandy from his pocket 

and drank it from under the table, 

said if you want to be a poet 

you have to become a priest 

to this art and get ready to give 

a piece of yourself and not care 

for men who fuck other men’s women, 

and women who play the piano 

on the other side of the wall  

POSTCARD

are you the monkey with watery eyes

am I the monkey with a big hairy back

is that us in a crippled embrace

when will we meet

if 

© Marina Rubin