back in the lot
the solitude
settles in quickly
/ / /
30 May 2022
Pittsfield MA
Category: Van Life
sparrows in the trash
breeze moves the bushes
my towel is nearly dry
/ / /
24 May 2022
Pittsfield MA
parking lot camp chair hitchhiker nostalgia
/ / /
22 May 2022
Pittsfield MA
pooping at
Price Chopper to
Steve Winwood’s “Higher Love”
/ / /
21 May 2022
Pittsfield MA
watching YouTube
as the heat slowly rises
not in a sexy way
/ / /
14 May 2022
Pittsfield MA
Sentence
I broke my hand mirror
in the gym shower this morning.
I’d say here come seven years of bad luck
but I’m hoping to get time served and probation.
/ / /
9 May 2022
Pittsfield MA
Free Chips And Salsa
Maybe, just maybe,
there is a corner that can be turned.
A light rain dances on the roof of the van.
Slow jams uncurl from my headphones.
A lone candle flickers in a cup holder.
This parking lot is the end of one road.
This parking lot is the start of another.
All Mexican restaurants should offer
free chips and salsa.
/ / /
26 April 2022
Pittsfield MA
(NaPoWriMo Day 26)
how big a mistake
have I made?
gym shower ruminating
/ / /
24 April 2022
Pittsfield MA
Routine
Today, I’ve decided, I won’t turn on the van.
I’ll start and end here in this parking lot.
First order of business: meditation.
The monkey toyed with, I move on to
a rearrangement of my tiny living space.
As a man with few passengers, I will use
the passenger seat for storage,
freeing up more space to swing my arms
in the main compartment.
I rarely swing my arms, but it’s best to be ready.
Then it’s on to the hand-cramping task
of copying many dozen haiku into a notebook.
I shake out my fingers, finish a book,
listen to Miguel Cabrera’s 3000th hit,
crank up the Grateful Dead.
Forty-eight years into whatever this is,
I’ve still figured out very little.
I’ve started over again, alone, with nothing.
For now I’ll lie back and listen to “Peggy-O.”
Later I’ll get a bite to eat from the grocery store.
Then on into another night, another morning.
/ / /
23 April 2022
Pittsfield MA
(NaPoWriMo Day 23)
Proof Of Life
The condensation on the windows is proof of life
for passersby who might try to see past the curtain
or the blacked-out covers into the interior
of my not-exactly-a-home on wheels.
I’m sitting upright, my bottom half in a sleeping bag,
my top half shrouded in a wool blanket,
meditating because it seems like the right thing to do.
There’s an insistent bird in the leafless tree
outside the rear window of the van, its song
one I would have been able to name just a few years ago.
That knowledge, like so much I used to contain,
has passed through the bone safe of my skull
into the poorly designed container of the world.
In more than twenty years of meditation
I have rarely quieted the dancing monkey
who jumps from one sparking synapse to the next
with a shrill laugh.
I keep at it because I don’t have a control group,
so no comparison can be made.
A text from my sister: “Peace and stability are just ahead.”
She is not, as far as I know, clairvoyant,
but I’d rather believe her than lend credence to myself.
The bell dings and I use the remote starter
to turn on the van I’m sitting in.
It’s easier than crawling up front.
Soon the heat will kick in and I’ll do the crossword
and the bird will keep singing or else it won’t.
/ / /
20 April 2022
Pittsfield MA
(NaPoWriMo Day 20)
Leave a Commentback in the lot
three broken RVs
& a pickup on blocks
/ / /
12 April 2022
Pittsfield MA
Derelict
As I leave work, the anxiety sets in.
Heart racing, fast breaths.
After five weeks of safety
it’s back to the van.
Nowhere to go, on the hunt
for a safe place to park.
I walk along a marsh trail
after parking in the first place
I ever slept in a car.
It was fun then, a shared adventure.
Tonight I need the sound of the birds
and the feeling of the breeze
to dry the tears
that suddenly spring to my eyes.
Later still I find a Walmart parking lot
with several broken-down RVs,
a pickup truck up on blocks,
a derelict school bus.
I’ll take a chance,
hope to avoid a knock.
/ / /
11 April 2022
Pittsfield MA
(NaPoWriMo Day 11)
