Poetry: Honeysuckle and Easter

A shimmering butterfly
circles the honeysuckle
in the backyard where
sunflowers grow a
foot tall, by daddy’s
garage where doo-wop
streams from the radio
this hot Passover Day

slurping Kool-Aid and
munching matzah
in my Superman
clubhouse

wishing my Sister
would go away.

(c) Rob Goldstein 1984-2019
“It’s Superman” Rob Goldstein 2019

Haiku Four: Christopher Street, 1973

Buzzed boys,

 laughter–

In love.

 

‘Christopher Street, 1973’  (c) Rob Goldstein 2019
‘The Hand on 9th and Harrison’ (c) Rob Goldstein 2019

Poetry: Grandma Said

Grandma said

the poor go first,

kids like me,

she said–

if the war

don’t end–

but I was

too delicate,

too pretty,

too likely to kiss

the gook’

if he was

cute.

Rob Goldstein, March 2019

 

 

 

Yesterday’s Hipster: The Digerati

The lad is a wiz with computers
and handy with grass.

Me: How is the lad today?

Henry: Quite beside himself.

Me: Lucky you. And the grass?

Henry: Never leaner–

Insight:

Good boys go bad or die–

Henry still thinks he’s in love.

(c) Rob Goldstein 1992-2018