first poem in my new book out next month from Antrim House

Reading will be at Le Shag on the first Sat. of Sept--more to follow, and also at Daniel Berlin's art gallery, at Duck Pond, at Trinity College and elsewhere.

The Sweet and Low Down

Small gestures matter,
and I’m not talking about flipping someone
the bird. I got a note from the principal.
See I can spell that because some teacher
taught me the pneumonic, the principal is
my pal, and he is. He thanked me
in writing for my work with the teachers.
I came home and cleaned my house
lickety split. I was high on a small
gesture. I feel this way in the Midwest.
Last time I visited I was wandering
in the produce section of Hinky Dinky
or was it Piggly Wiggly—so corny out there.
And the clerk yelled, Hi, how are you.
I stepped back in a panic, thought
I was caught squeezing the melons.
But he was sincere. Day two in that market,
I knew the checkout girl’s name
and we exchanged some news of the day.
I know this will sound like some Feel-Good
New-Age advice, but why not smile at a stranger?
I did try that in the supermarket, here in NYC,
but the woman did not smile back,
did not say hello to my hello.
Oh well. I did not take it personally.
That’s the other thing that matters,
don’t take it personally.
No one is out to get you or me.
It’s a matter of being in the path
of hurricanes, earthquakes, the robber,
the suicide bomber, the terrorist.
I have myself panicked now.
My shoulders are up around my ears.
I am worried, not angry, but in need of one
small gesture. Thanks, I would love a cup of coffee,
yes, with one sweet and low.