Slam Poem #2

A practiced smile and then
Cracked the deck wide open, a flourish
He had practiced far to much
To have learned much else, or done much else
And fanned the cards in that maddening way
That I could never manage
Pick a card, of course, but I refused
And so the smile faded into sincerity
Pick a card, or I am lost
Pick a card, or I will have to wait
I have tried so hard not to disappoint
The experts I encounter in their shapely holes
But I'll not play this game again
I know the way it ends
I know it's not a trick, but something else
A way of forcing me to choose
When everything was chosen long before
So I refuse
And he is still here, fingers extended
In a misdirecting flare
Uncertain what to do when someone
Like me
Thinks he knows the secrets in the pass
And prefers not to be amazed
Nor charmed
Nor lead to bold conclusions about the power of the mind
I've tried so hard not to disappoint
The thought-leaders I encounter in their hard-bound volumes
But every game is old
And taught to them by others like them
Each to each
Requiring worshipful indifference and
Slavish ignorance
Perhaps if I were younger I would train my ears to hear them
But as it is I wrap myself in this protection:
I do not want to win
I will not pick a card
You will simply have to wait

Slam Poem #1

Picture it
People colliding in slapdash collections
Bouncing into one another
Midday
And exchanging clothes right then and there
Shoes and handbags and everything
Discomfitted
Waddling away into their afternoon task lists
Chafing their heels and scapulae
Irritated
Bumping once again as evening plummets forward
Into yet another group of the faux-transformed
Wearied
And exchanging viruses and expectations right then and there
Spirochetes and phages and post-doc plans
Promising
Eyes pleading into eyes as if this had never happened before
Just take what you find in silence
As we have
Accept your place in this asymmetric polygamy
Do something with that size-four slingback neurosis you're leaving with
Concentrate
Tomorrow there will be another twist of tissues
I will be where you are now and in that same configuration
Picture it
We have always and will always do this on purpose
The hot sheen of your forehead for the swollen bunion on my left foot
Synonymy
Passionate infections and benevolent impact each and every time
Smacking headlong into the angles of our dance
Forever