The Black Overcoat One Way People

I was down yesterday, with the rest
the one with the twenty two stories
and that reflection
and there were men in black overcoats
and women in black shoes,
thin heels, the ends pointed
like knife tips
and a black overcoat man opened the door for me
and a black overcoat man pushed the elevator button
and a black overcoat man gave me someone else's mail
the overcoat men are everywhere
and the black stiletto women are too good,
and on the second floor two black stiletto women moved in
one pressed eighteen and the other four
the black stiletto women have nice jobs
and softly painted faces, and
they will pretend not to see you
or maybe they really do not
and then, if they watch your eyes
while your watching their legs
the black stiletto women's faces will become compact
and will sour and they will look at your white shirt
and they will know you wore those pants yesterday
but they have forgotten about the day before
because the stiletto women only have
one day memories
and one day shoes
and one day pants
and one night pajamas
and one way to say hello
and they say hello that one way to
the black overcoat men
and the black overcoat men say hello
in the exact same way,
as if no time at all,
only with deeper voices
and without blades on their shoes,
then one woman got off on the second ding
and her black shoes clicked across the white tile
with the arrogance of a second hand
and she was gone
then the other straightened her face
and her skirt, and waited for eighteen
and your eyes watched her round hams
and her eyes looked to the metal doors,
but you both listened to the dings
and after fourteen dings she clicked away as well
and then you were alone with the dings
and the metal doors, your white shirt and
your old pants and no black overcoat
and after three dings the doors open
to florescent light
and you exit and thought that
just maybe that was enough
for one day.

- Ananda Selah Osel

Improprieties in Late January

It is late January and the fog has taken the morning,
every morning, by the throat
and I take a great pleasure in the choking of
the early hours
taking liberties with the foggy mornings
and taking liberties with time

It is late January and the fog has taken the morning,
and I am on the Metro bus
and the freaks are there with me
and under the brim of my hat I pretend to be
one of them
and during my nine hours I pretend to be
one of the other kind-
the kind with unsullied speech,
neckties and sterile white faces
the kind who eat lunch at exactly
twelve-thirty in the afternoon
and
who insult with
the twitches of
privileged eyelids

and after I am done with my nine,
I am back on the Metro
with the newspaper readers
and the newsmakers
the fog has long let go-
but the freaks have not yet gone
and the drunks have arrived
and the loud
and the stinking
the street youth arrive,
and the crippled
and this is where you find the poor,
the hideous
the deformed
the obnoxious
the artists
the students
the chair bound
the strung out
the overweight
the underfed
the underrepresented
the friendless
the insane
the dying
and the brilliant

and since the fog has given way
I cannot take pleasure
and I cannot take liberties

but with every draw of the cord
I am closer to my destination
and nearer to the next days haze
and as I depart the Metro
It is late January
the cold darkness has taken the light,
and I take liberties with the cold
and I take liberties with time

but I am still too afraid
to buy a newspaper

- Ananda Selah Osel

Thirty-Seven-Hundred & No Heater

before she walked out
she told me there was
someone else,
i knew this already –
she said he’d be coming
to town and she would
stay with him
“he’s connecting at jfk
and then he’ll be in seattle; ten pm tonight”

so,

there he is at the
airport
strolling
with suitcase
handkerchiefs in all his pockets
and
polished shoes

he’d come and go
and
she would do
the same –
like before

we fixed dinner
and I got drunk on wine
went to the bedroom
and I gave thirty worth
but couldn’t finish

we watched the tube
ate ice cream
and she packed
in front of me

at 9:30 she drank some
herbal tea
kissed me on the knee
told me she loved me
and
left

so i waited –
two
three
four five
six days

she never came back
and
when I called she never
answered
and
when I went to her job
she was not there
and
the co-workers
whispered

i went back to the house
drank two bottles of wine
and ate a candy bar

after 2 weeks I sold
our belongings –
made thirty seven hundred

moved into a run-down
room with no heater

and started over

- Ananda Selah Osel

Dead Animals on the Sidewalk

there where two dozen people circled
around an injured dog who had made
his way to the sidewalk

one look at her lacerations
and you could tell:
the end

and
for a fleeting moment
i felt painful empathy
and
consideration
and
after when the feeling was gone
I pushed through
the mass
stepped over the animal
and was on my way

a woman yelled out
"you're the dog - you're the animal"

i turned and looked at her
a pale face standing with the
mass of
picasso faces
then i
nodded
turned
away
and waited for
whatever
was the
next thing

- Ananda Selah Osel

The Final Stretch

upon the finest of threads
we hang together

but there are times when
everything is warm and yellow

only it's not reality
and
i can't stand tears
and
she hates my coldness
she detests my lecturing
and
she loathes my way

i ask her why then
does she continue to abuse herself

she just
stares
stares
stares

gives a fake smile and says
"FUCK you"

I smile for real
thinking about
the next

hoping she knows how to
treat herself like a
decent
human
being

- Ananda Selah Osel

Maps

regular
clean
men
with sterile
faces
are filling
universities
and
books
and
minds
who will in
turn
fill books
and minds
with the
sameness

and
as the masses
grow even more
massive

the ants continue to build up
their kingdom

the bees keep on collecting
honey

and
the wind still blows over
the ocean

and
with that in mind
maybe our
sameness
is not so bad

after all

- Ananda Selah Osel