Editor’s note: Every month GT features the work of a local poet. This month we introduce Bert Glick. He is a peripatetic poet who was recently on Pacific Avenue in downtown Santa Cruz, toting a copy of his book: “I Used To Be Me.” If spotted, approach with caution. He may attempt to read you a poem.

She said   

I had a cookie aura                              

about me

I was sweet               

yet

a crumb at heart   

I for my part

accused her                

of

having a chocolate chip                

on her shoulder

and so   

we nibbled away

at each other  

‘til

I melted in her                         

mouth

SUICIDE HOTLINE

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for about to slash your wrist in a warm bath

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for jumping in front of an on-coming Bart train

About to blow your brains out?

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at any time during this menu

Press 4

for bridge-jumpers support groups

throughout the Greater Bay

including the 707 and 831 area codes

Press 5

for incremental suicide

due to compulsive, self destructive behavior

Press 6

for previously botched attempts

For a life-affirming live operator

dial your nine digit social insecurity number

followed by the pound key

To return to the main menu press any button any time

Thank you for calling Suicide Hotline

This call may have been monitored for training purposes

VAMPIRE WITH WINGS

My roommate

  The Mosquito    

waits late

         for me to bed

              buzzes my head

                        believes we are wed~

                             My blood the nectar

                            of the gods

                she drinks deep

       I can’t sleep     

No protection

        from her injection

          I Swell from

             her affection

not to mention

she won’t even

split the rent

THE 20TH CENTURY

(It came and went)

From buggy whips to my red Camry

Kamikaze Mitsubishi

It won’t be stylish marriage

I can’t afford a carriage

Mo town Nissan we’ve got a lease on

From Kitty Hawk to the Moon Walk and beyond

Today the Solar system, tomorrow the Galaxy

and concentration camps for computer retards

From Victorian-The queen’s not amused-to-

Let’s-do-it-in-the-road-dudes

to God’s-our-only-sponsor-on-the-air-

so-send-a-million-buckeroos-in-two-weeks-

or-I’ll-die

all adding up to a good papal fisting at the DNA Lounge

From the Gay 90’s to the Gay 90’s

a hundred-year progression

when our hearts were young and gay

to our kids young and gay

  “My son married a man!”

             “Is he Jewish?”

             “Is he Black?”

             “Does he take drugs?”

From booze prohibition to pot prohibition

and the drug war on people

The New golden Rule:

More prisons than schools

From the molten core of our comic, atomic century

the two German Wars to the so-called Cold War-

The Commies are coming-

of living memory

To make the world safe for democracy is fear itself

never in the history of human conflict

so much light at the end of the tunnel

do not ask what your country can do for

prosperity just around the corner

and a chicken in every pot, my little chickadee

or is that a gun in your pocket?

With one small step for a man

I shall return

with peace in our time

because I’m no crook

I didn’t inhale

with that woman

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