239
Sonnets From Other Lives: Les

--What say you & me step outside &
discuss our business without all this crowd.
--Sure, Les—Dumbass answers with a side-
long glance around the room. –Am I allowed
to finish my drink first? Les gives him one
of his fisheye looks—the one that shrivels
guy’s nuts nearly as deftly as a gun
in the face. –Alright Dumbass, your drivel
& worthless bullshit is worth waiting for.
I’ve waited weeks to have this conversation.
Now I don’t have to look for you no more,
I intend to resolve this situation
once and for all. Dumbass I know you know
what happens when you don’t pay what you owe.

237
Sonnets From Other Lives: Dan

Wake me when it’s over. I don’t think
this can be happening unless I am
asleep, but if I’m not, I’ll take that drink
you mentioned earlier. For guys like Dan
the pure unvarnished truth should always be
administered with liquid anesthesia.
He’s wagered everything thinking that he
might get a break. Selective amnesia
blocked the déjà vu that should have warned him.
He’s been here too many times—right on the edge
of a good thing… Well it came up craps again.
Climb out a window? Stand out on a ledge?
Not to worry. Over time I’ve found
there’s always a way out. I call it: Down.

236
Sonnets From Other Lives: Jen & Jeri

Face it girl, the dude’s a total ‘bag.
This time you gotta finally face the facts.
These things happen--I know—it’s a drag,
but when has that guy ever made eye contact
with your actual eyes & not your tits?
Jeri blows her nose as Jen rants on.
Then the bastard turns around & hits
on me! Your BFF! That is SO wrong!
Jen flags the waitress, orders margaritas,
Two more Grandes --pronto por favor!
Gotta pee—Jeri says rising from her seat— a
bit unsteadily, Just this one more
& then I gotta get myself back home
& start getting used to being there alone.

235
Sonnets From Other Lives: Ruth

Boys will be boys, my husband used to say
but that was while the boys were still alive.
He isn’t saying anything these days.
He was the one who taught them how to drive.
When the call came from the State Patrol,
& everything was shattered into shards,
& each of us was left with half a soul,
our continents began their drift apart.
The silence. The assessing of the blame.
We left our haunted house, moved to Carmel,
& changed everything except our names.
It’s such a pretty place, our little hell,
where I take some small comfort in knowing
I could walk into that ocean & keep going.

234
Sonnets From Other Lives: Nick

It was time for them to begin heading home. A
storm would be rolling in on them soon.
Lenticular clouds over Mt. Tahoma
portending rain, a waning crescent moon
rising in the east, the signs align,
Nick thinks, hoisting his rucksack. The Alsatian
stands up, stretches & approaches. Time
to go home, Sam? Wagging in affirmation,
the dog trots down trail towards the waiting truck.
Nick follows with his geriatric lurch.
Yeah we had a good day, Sam, our luck
has held out weatherwise. This is Nick’s church--
these alpine firs, these mountains & this trail...
He means to keep this Sabbath 'til the old flesh fails.

233
Sonnets From Other Lives: Joni

A murmuring a starlings fills the sky
over the winter stubble of the valley.
Joni stops in midstride-- hypnotized.
by the avian cloud launching its wild sallies
in & out & over—fro & to
like some mindless mind mimicking chance.
What pulls at them? Does it pull at her too?
The choreographer of her own dance
has left this foetus fluttering inside
her—forcing myriad alterations to
her flight plan. She’d thought that she would glide
like a seagull, soaring easily through
a carefully considered life. Instead,
she’s bracing for the turbulence ahead