I Feel So Sub-prime
My next-door neighbor is gone
Two small U-haul trucks
Were parked in their driveway
When I got home Friday
The guy that owned the house
Before them
Was an ass
First thing he did
When he and his wife
Moved in was to convert
Their two car garage to
A kick-boxing studio
Our garage faces the street
Their's faces our property
One day I got home from work
Walking up to my door
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poem by Tom J. Mariani
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2008: It Still Bugs Me It's No Longer Green
For those of you who were not reading
The 'San Francisco Chronicle' back when
The sports section was printed
On green newsprint
- - - you may not see the loss as I do
They throw us old readers a bone
They still call it 'The Sporting Green'
Sometimes printing the heading in green
onn white newsprint - BFD
- - - if you know what I mean
They said the cost of green newsprint
Had gotten too high
So had the ballplayers' salaries
But they weren't all replaced with white rookies
- - - if ya know what I mean
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poem by Tom J. Mariani
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It May Not Seem Fair
She was part
Of what held
This family together
When it didn't want or
Didn't think it needed
To be held
Now she tells me
Of growing up on the ranch
In the early nineteen hundreds
Why their father left
Coming by with money
Putting in a couple days of work
Then heading back out
As the held together
Four young girls and their mother
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poem by Tom J. Mariani
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Things I Find When I Clean
Halloween has marked the day
-rest of The Holidays are on the way
Clear some room it's been requested
For out-of-towners to be nested
They only stay over night
Then as soon as it's bright
We'll be off to The City by The Bay
Favorite spot of mine I'll say
Things I find when I clean
Things for years I haven't seen
Stacks of books to move
I can get rid of some I'll prove
I throw thoughts onto what I can find
Written on scraps the contents of my mind
Then folded between pages
Of books I havn't seen in ages
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poem by Tom J. Mariani
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This Is No Fish Story
We had been up and down Redwood Creek
For what seemed to me to be all day
Watching my grandfather fish for salmon
We started at the mouth of the river
Hiked over sand rocks and slippery green moss
The only reason I was there was
The fried chicken and potato salad
My grandmother made the night before
Lunch seemed so far away
My grandfather was out of sight
He had worked his way upstream
When we heard him yell 'FISH ON! '
My grandmother who had been hanging back with me
Left me in the sand
I had to move fast to catch up
Moving around large pieces of driftwood
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poem by Tom J. Mariani
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