The white man

Lines and ridges around his mouth like the what the
Andes mountains look like from high
Or like fucking fault lines
Sallow skin dotted with black stubbly whiskers and
The voice that classic slurry drawly twang
but softer and more thoughtful than you’d expect.
He has a trucker cap on a underneath his jeans
you can make out the skinniest legs you ever saw
with a belt tightly wound across
He smells like liquor and smokes and
has glasses with a clip on sunglasses to bifocals
He laughs and I can hear his lungs wheeze like an accordion

Frozen Yogurt

By Morty Diamond
I live in los angeles
the home of the frozen yogurt
where it all began
Like Starbucks but in the eighties
a frozen yogurt could be had anywhere
On any street corner
only a few street blocks away from the next
Low fat, creamy, fat free, vanilla choco swirl
frozen yogurt a passing fad
Today a sixteen year old girl
in a mini skirt and small white tank top
is asking me
If I have ever been to a self-serve frozen yogurt store before?
No. I have not
Well its by the pound
any flavor and any topping. Ok? Here’s a cup.
I stand at the wall of frozen yogurt machines
peanut butter, chocolate, vanilla, strawberry,
All the same as before –
except now I have to make it myself.
That’ll be 2.78 sir. She says
Its noon - my lunch break.
Two cops come in and survey the flavors.
I’m eating frozen yogurt
while standing at an intersection.
I am walking towards another intersection.
A mini-mall,another one and another one
make three and a gas station rounds it all out
ten more minutes
ten more minutes till I gotta go back.

Laces by Morty Diamond

They took my shoelaces first
Thinking I could do myself harm
Then they took my clothes
And told me I could have my hoodie
But they would have to take the drawstring out

Claire sits by herself and blows ink she has dropped
On a bright white sheet of paper
The ink goes haywire and splashes the paper to its edge
“I’m making a card, for my nephew.” She says
Her eyes blink furiously and her nose twitches
I know, because she told me, she is in here
For severe depression.
“I have a cat.” She told me. “He keeps me company.”
I nod to her yes
“The neighbors have him now.”
I nod yes

They did not give me more than a sheet and a mattress cover
“This is just in case you wet on the bed.”
But I don’t! I just want a blanket!
“I can give you two mattress covers then”

I see Mr. Hernandez – he is walking the corridor again
He does everyday, as much as they let him
Until they scream “Mr. Hernandez! Will you please stop
walking now and go to sleep!”
He does not talk, he is drooling on his slippers.

They told me I would be leaving in one or two more days.
I can have my old life back if I want it. And it’s a good thing
my father has flown from Los Angeles to see me. This makes the chances
of leaving that much better. I sit in my room, cold, quiet
waiting for the medicine to take hold.

Forgetting

It is perhaps true
That the one thing I miss most
Is forgetting
What is to be forgotten
Once, not too long ago,
I sat on the J train patiently as
The begging man I come to know
As Bruce comes closer once still
And yet I recall Bruce less and less
He is not vivid anymore
Nor is the scene out the window of said J train
From Manhattan to Brooklyn
I forget which side the sun lights up first as we venture eastward to my
Home
coming out of the dark still tunnel at
Essex/Delancey
I forget the smell of you taking me home
And I forget the kiss we had as the train hit the stop closest to your
House,
we both knew it wasn’t that close but the J train was mine
And the L yours.
I am hungry not for old love or old smells
Just of forgetting – I miss this only
I will be on the 101 freeway ever losing site of
What I ever wanted to forget