the man on the beach

my parents got married 1962
when it was cool to go on a
honeymoon down to acapulco
in the technicolor pristine pools
and swaying palm trees of mexico
and got this old black and white
photo where the vague ghostly
profile of joe dimaggio is simply
brooding in the background on
the beach on shore in his bathing
trunks in james bond aristotle onassis
sunglasses just looking up at the sun
and whenever they get to that particular
photo they always happen to bring up–
“did you know that’s joe dimaggio
looking up at the sun?”
(as if each time they
say it we’re supposed
to get more surprised
by this proclamation)
while as a kid always
thought he looked
a bit odd and
obscure, very
solitary and
alone, stoic
stoned
perhaps
even like
a washed
up piece
of petrified
driftwood just
hanging out
back there
on shore
after a
storm
isolated
silhouetted
some
accidental
anonymous
amorphous
stick-
figure
stranger
literal
innocent
bystander
who always
seems to
suddenly
conveniently
show up
out of
nowhere
somewhere
in the back
of some photo
on someone
else’s
vacation
looking
up at
the sun
(personified
punchline
to the
simon
& gar-
funkel
line–
“where have
you gone?”)
yet now
that i’m
all grown
think i can
completely
sympathize
and get why
and feel and
understand
and know
how in that
one fell motion
one simple pose
really just trying
to get away
from it all.
________________________________

A Sense Of Little To No Accomplishment

part 1

they called the game
called it a snow day
as you head out
to pick your kid
up from pre-
school hearing
yourself through
the snow and
rain singing
summertime
a much better
version than janis’
or even the original
porgy and bess
throwing in a bit
b. holiday and
bessie smith
sort of method
man and mary j
blige high up
on the roof
of washington
heights and
very much
very little to
your surprise
saw that old
woman from
the farm
the only
one who’s
ever been
nice or kind
with the great
big blue eyes
getting her
heart stamped
out by some
sopping wet sheep
and turn in to see
if she’s alright
and tells me
she’s not
and simply
kiss her cheek
and warm up
some scotch
whiskey and
go after
the sheep
the one
with the
bloody
hoofbeat
screaming
at him like
one of those
old italians or jews
mad at her kids
in the lower
eastside
going–
“what in
the hell’s
wrong with
you!” kick
him in the
ass and go
to check on
the old woman
and shut
her eyes
then simply
take off looking
out for ambulances
and ice cream men
the old shut-ins clearing
off their steps in the snow
general store shattered
on the side of the road
same barn burning down
miserable mechanical
porno moms who look
like they haven’t gotten
it in ages heading home
to their safe & secure suburbs
real-life witches with the same
cruel cookie-cutter expressions
affairs in the window of the
old clocktower the souls of
crows up on telephone wires
then flirting with all the young
pretty girls going to pick
up milk at the farm and
go to look up at the wind
in the pines and realize
you have showed
up once more
right on time

part 2

you notice your snow shovel
leaned up against the front
of your home

in the blue
glistening
snows

and think if you were to take it away
would it be like good
ol vaudeville

from back in the day, not sure who
laurel, abbott, one of the stooges
chaplin, most likely keaton…

when a keystone cop
comes ambling along
and asks–”what’ya doing

holding up the building?”
and he casually shuffles off
and it all comes tumbling down

you know if you were to add
silence to all the violence
of american history

it might very well
all just boil down
to one long

slap-
stick
comedy

part 3

looking at my wife’s cell phone
in the way i been feeling recently
thought it had said something like handyman,
hangman, just hanging on, wondering if they got one
for phantoms, ghosts of old friends, lingering in the little
room in the allergist office as you hear her ask down the hall
about oak, ragweed, dog, fog, bogs, logs, white birch, they’re so
nice, cockroach, capricorn? you wonder if they got one for people

part 4

wonder what dx they would have given those
wandering jews forced to wander for thousands
and thousands of years in the desert, on the run
from the czar & fuhrer; a post traumatic-stress
disorder? seperation-anxiety? or simply
some attachment dx? as i’m one
of them and always find the
desperate need to keep
on moving & rambling
& wandering & most
importantly curious
to know who and
what the hell i am?

part 5

certain things i discovered in the front seat of my car while driving my kid to preschool and dog to the dump
a last will and testament my wife purchased at walmart a take out pizza menu with pictures of a pizza pie and pepperoni on it an appointment card to see the dentist with illustrations of teeth and a dsm 4 statistic manual to diagnose mood and personality disorders as this all just kind of made me feel so much more comfortable with my last will and testament take out pizza menu an appointment card to see the dentist
and the dsm 4 the bible for us social workers to diagnose mood and personality disorders
it is dusk now and sun falling on lawns and babysitter is here and feel all safe and secure.

part 6

starting to really relate to all your old maids
from back in the day who would help to take
care of us cause there were so many and cast
their eyes to the sky and pray before they scaled
the staircase with delinquent sons getting into a hell

of a lot of trouble still stuck
in one of those ghettos in guatemala
calling it the land of the eternal spring

part 7

junkie floor waxer nodding out
over his buffer spinning round
and round round in the foyer

part 8

wish i was like one of those good old slapstick comedians
who was it? chevy chase? dick van dyke? buster keaton?
who used to take great pratfalls down the stairs
love to do that every evening to greet the family
taking great spills and tumbling down the stairs
to my wife’s beef stroganoff, sloppy joe…”daddy!
you okay?” as this exchange becomes family tradition
then like a good sport dust myself off and with one of those
great big old corny sweeping panoramic smiles from back in
the day, remark–”fine & dandy! couldn’t be better!” and gather
around the father knows best supper table to chip in my two cents

part 9

a sputtering cigarette sun
setting glowing and burning

in the shotgun colonial
windows of new england

thieves returning
home in pickups

“pray the lord
my soul to keep”

part 10

watching ice
melt in driveway
under warm sun

coffee in hand

what’s all
the hub-bub?
why so sad?

part 11

so to say
after snow
day you really
feel bad for kids
even yourself
all the recycled
shit they got on
t.v. these days
and when you
get home you’ll
whip out the
cue-tips to
squeegee
the eye
lashes
of the
lady
bugs
passed
out on
your sill
the monster
beneath your bed
and sooty window
panes of all those
bumpdabumpa
lionel trains

part 12

conductors on strike
once more, once again

cvetching and complaining
demanding some sort of guarantee…

 

 

Joseph Reich: is a social worker who works out in the state of Massachusetts: A displaced New Yorker who sincerely does miss diss-place, most of all the Thai food, Shanghai Joe’s in Chinatown, the fresh smoothies on Houston Street, and bagels and bialy’s of The Lower East Side. He has a wife and handsome little son with a nice mop of dirty-blonde hair, and when they all get a bit older, hope to take them back to play, to pray, to contemplate in the parks and playgrounds of New York City.