AFTER SEPTEMBER
my book of poetry about September 11th, 2001...and after Available NOW at Amazon.com -click here
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Sunday, September 28, 2014

They Got the band Back Together-THE PETERSON'S @ 54 Below




54 Below. September 27th. 2014. Been waiting all year for something special and this is it. They got the band back together. Tony Danza talking to Matt Saldivar at the bar. The room buzzing with excitement.


All I need is a good cigar and dedicated ventilation and I would have been as near to nirvana as I can get without my wife being next to me. 54 Below is opulent without pretensions. Festive like a secure speak easy of old. Pete Peterson (the drummer) is missing. Not the reason they have not played! They have not played because Mrs. Peterson had a baby. Julio got the baby sitter. Julio is "so tired.” Here is the blow by blow of this 11 round bout of non-stop laughter in a club featuring an audience with the likes of C. Michael Hall, Ben Shenkman, and James Naughton.

1. Throw Away the Past (Move On)

They all wipe with towels. Mr. Peterson is looking for Julio to set up the baby monitor. They are playing Frankenstein? No, it’s just like a radio. You have to tune it! Baby sleeping.

 "It’s like my heart is walking around outside of my body." Mr. Peterson explains parenthood...but with not so fond memories of the blessed event!  Trauma down there! Alien! Coming out of your body. 

 Mrs. Peterson wants to get naked and do shots! Mr. P can't do it. Yet...

2.(Get Wet) Down There!


Father Tom's sexual history. Father Tom was not visited by a priest.

3. Because, Because ! We were in Love!!!

Julio cries. And is really, really tired. Ricky (He's the new drummer) had to pump. 

Dios Mio! It's been 10 months and they have not named the baby!

Lazy drunk absentee mom. Mrs. Peterson is a feminist. WWDRD

4. (New song) What Would Donna Reed Do?

5. Matt Saldivar! No matter where you are...we think of you and smile!

More patter. More tired-ness. 

Beef jerky? Fruit roll up? "Is that my placenta?" Mrs. Peterson asks. Eating smoked placenta for energy! 

Brilliant!

Tony Danza comes on stage. He is the baby sitter! He's good with kids. Julio explains the long running documentary (Who's the Boss) about raising kids.

Tony does a song!

6. Donna was an extreme sunbather in Vegas...who died of exposure...2nd chance. “I couldn't have been rotten-er...I should have gotten her out of the sun!" (He rocks it out of the park!) A song from Honeymoon in Vegas coming to Broadway.

Mrs. Peterson is hot, hot, hot for Tony.

Mr. Peterson's wilted libido shows signs of life! (He's jealous).

7. Arwen- Aragorn-Misfits

Mr. Peterson wants to fight Tony Danza!

8.Bruce Lee! I gotta be!

He's calling Tony Danza out! Baby monitor going off! Baby crying.

 Let's sing him a lullaby.

9. $60.00 Dollar Bra (sotto voce)

Puts the baby to sleep. Matt (aka Julio) played the lil piano! Cracked me up!

Naming the baby after Tony Danza.

10. Michael Corleone-Apollonia… Blow Up-in a car. "You could be grotesquely obese and I'd still love you" Mr. Peterson croons. 

11...Encore! Matt Saldivar! New song? Johnny Loves You? Evans solo sweet. All -I-Know ...is I don't wanna lose you now...


Whew. I am so tired after that recap. I think I need a nap...later. What a great night. I hope they play more.




Sunday, September 14, 2014

9/11/14 - 13 Years a Ghost




It's like the fires never went out. Even after the towers fell, after September passed, after 13 years. The fire still burns. Helplessly I gazed at the north tower and at the doomed face of a man above the flames. He was in a chef's coat and was hanging out a window and was trying to do what we were all trying to do...escape. I was on the outside looking in, yet I could not escape the horror. That man would not escape with his life. I feel as if I have just haunted New York City ever since. A restless spirit unable to comprehend or reconcile the massive heartbreak. 

Good came out of the rubble, out of the search and rescue of victims, out of the determination to fight back and win against tyranny, out of rebuilding. Though I know in my very small way I play an even smaller part in all that, yet, I still feel invisible. Stranded in a past that never existed. A place where lives were all saved and ruin prevented. Haunting the plaza where that brass globe sat between the two towers. Mesmerized by views from that observation deck. Feeling the thrill of those fast elevators to Windows on the World. Being with the people who never saw September 12th 2001.

It takes a lot of energy to keep my emotions in check. I want throw myself back into life with a vengeance but then I think...what the heck. I go forward anyway, haunting the city by night, sleeping by day. Responding to the fires after they are out. Searching for meaning. Helping where I can help. Giving where I can give. Wondering if  the joy of pleasure will ever be mine again.










Monday, September 8, 2014

Dear Dad,

September 8th, 2008 is a day I will not forget. I think of you everyday dad. I hope you and mom are getting along in heaven. This is a poem I know you read, I am sharing it today in an effort to touch your spirit, and to let you know your spirit lives in me.


Adams Street

Two men in warm thermal sweaters with hoods
Caper along planks fixed atop a stage of scaffolding
Bright Brooklyn October Sun rises, shines, and is
Absorbed by thirty pound black felt roofing paper.

A tape- measure razor thin is stretched between
Held in hands darkened by pitch dust
That gets between every skin cell.

How I remember your hands holding a stick rule
As you made deep gouges in soft black membrane
Glowing blacker soaking in all the sun it could.

I held one end of heavy cord full of yellow chalk
We pulled tightly while you tugged smartly snapping
Long straight parallels.

It was crisp, cool, and autumn. Good working weather.

I thought of you, of us together, when I saw hooded workmen
High above Adams Street getting set to strike lines
And begin starter courses of slate or tile.

I know we would have had more patience with each other
If we knew then what we know now,
But I am grateful for everyday you could still hear me say

“I Love You, Dad.”

Because
Love fueled our anger for so long
And we both know what it is
To be angry young men
Hammering away in sunshine.