Suburban Killer (a poem)

at this juncture, we’ve not found

the serial killer who

stalks the sickened streets

of this suburban town –

turn that frown

upside-down, miss

we’ve got diligent detectives

on the case

looking at every trace

of evidence

storing it in dirty lockers –

we’ll find this psycho-dude

I assure you

& you can go back

to your tranquil life

not worrying ‘bout

these dreadful things

(Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash)

American Shrine (a poem)

Traveling through America, in search of the Shrine

you know the one, mister, the place that encapsulates

our nation’s fears, dreams, triumphs + loathing –

some say the shrine is a shopping mall

Mother Church of Consumerism

but you know better

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I Love my City (a poem)

I love my city, the city of Philadelphia

I grew up outside your limits, near you in the ‘burbs

amazed by your skyscrapers, watching from

grandma’s steps in the shadow of St. Monica’s –

you aren’t always pretty, but you’re a city

with pride and spunk, attitude and funk,

the engine of our region with a legion of fans –

behind the cheesesteaks and Rocky Balboa,

we know how much heart you have and

even if we speak rough and act tough,

underneath this grime and slime,

you have a whole lotta love inside.

(Photo of a mural in Philly from the Greater Philadelphia Cultural Alliance)

American Masks (a poem)

What terror hides behind manicured grass

and lush flower beds? Outside the office complex,

the manager scolds us for cigarette smoking.

Months later, his cold stare is in a newspaper for

unspeakable crime. Am I too naïve to think the masks

we wear are true windows into our souls?

(Photo by John Noonan on Unsplash)