He does not know how to spell 
his sweetheart's last name 
she is from Moscow, he says 
What he doesn't say, but one knows 
he's in love, you could tell by his hands.   

He wants a motel room, though 
he hasn't quite got enough rubles 
The Inn Keeper still understands that 
Young Love is precious, rare, beautiful 
so he gets his room with a smile.

"Nesakueeka," please don't tell anyone 
afterall, he still did pay the tax 
so we here won't go entirely broke 
besides, the smiles he brought us these make up for the discount given, tenfold.

Li'l Miss Mooch   
She goes from room to room
her long black hair flowing
behind her, big brown eyes   

She looks deep into the soul
of each resident, wanting so
to reach them with her pleas   

She has everyone in the place
at her beckon call, waiting
upon the next time she visits   

She is the master, her will
they'll gladly obey, salivating
in rapt anticipation of satisfaction   

Each always seems to keep something
in the fridge; just what she loves
even cooking it especially for her   

As they stroke her hair, handing
each morsel to her, she kisses the hand
that feeds her, wagging her tail.   
[To: DIVA]

She said, she thought,
"Dating older men would always be safe."
but there was a sadness in her eyes
and she didn't have to say
what she had learned about that
it was written upon her lashes
that still maybe held
one last tear between the mascara

She just wanted to sleep
wondering if maybe she could
stay past check-out time
just a bit longer....

In reply to that old "wake-up call"
she said it was Okay to come in.
Still wrapped in her PJs
the blanket too, she was
all curled up on her bed
as if maybe wanting to return
to the warmth of her own mother's womb

The Taxi that brought her here
soon came to take her away.

LOVEBIRDS IN THE GARDEN   
I'd always dreamed
of a red, orange pair
flying free in the roses
ignoring their cage
door I'd left open there.

   
There should never be a cat
no no! Diva, with her black,
silky hair and tail would
somehow see to that,
the birds riding on her back.  

  
The real lovebirds, redheads
sitting in the garden swing
their door left open for air
reminded me of my dreams,
what they sometimes bring.  

 A MAN, HIS TRUCK AND HIS DOG   Funny how the tiny perky ears
atop that tawny colored coat
li'l black nose, the big huge brown eyes
peaking out from under his protective arm
find their way into that huge truck
then to sit in the lower corner
of his window, observing everything
that glides on by as he drives.   

Funny how the dusty gray
of his covered old pick-up, laundry in the back,
shines out a little bit silvery
under the hot Florida sun beating down
upon the canopy of camp windows
sparkling, glowing, reflecting...
even the chihuahuanse and his chihuahua
blinking back the brightness.  

Funny how they left behind
the fishing poles, tackle and fly
but then there's no real fish at the laundry
except maybe the fishwife he threw out
unceremoniously, in the middle of the night,
keeping even the poor li'l old dog awake
with her carping and complaining
echoing off the walls, so he'd said. 

   WHEN THEY LEAVE   

There is a sign upon the wall
it's there for all to see
it's been there since this place was built
I can tell, because it's that dusty.   

The sign, it says, in bold type face: 

"Everyone brings joy to this office
Some when they enter
and others when they leave."   

Oh, but there are a few folks
who bring a tear when they leave
whose presence was pure joy
from the day they arrived.

Now I miss them so.
I didn't realize it would be that way
then again, isn't that all part of life
there having been so many
over the years, one by one
I've lost touch with.   I wonder if they miss me too.   

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