A RUBE CUBED

A RUBE CUBED

Sense and the City   

Amazing doers use
talents, wit, their ability
to make sense of a city.
With the energy of youth
eager to pay
two cents dues
for what’s to take
and make of the city’s vibrant synergy.

We who care
about the fare
enough to pay for what they do
rely on those with a nose
for where the action is.

And so the city goes.

Cents and the City

The city sent us –
hoofers – noting:
Where’s the beef?
The high cost of space, we mused
left no range for rovers super-sized.
Walk them about,
stack them up.

And so the city culls.

Individuals come, aiming high, bound
to make some noise
but somewhere along the rise
to the tops of the rocks
the sounds puree.

And so the city mulls.

For my money, a prairie guy,
accustomed to horizontal
not vertical
don’t come here with vertigo.

Scents and the City

We went looking      
afoot among the ‘hoods
poking noses into stores
seeking special foods.

We elbowed our way                      
through Zabar’s nasal overkill
of tilapia and basil,
shelves of teas and bries
walls of tins, toffees,                   
open barrels of coffee beans
Ethiopian, Jamaican
Yirgacheffe blue mountain style, 
smells of whitefish, lox
salmon and trout mixed
with tuna, 
seeded, filled, dilled or sesame’d.

Down aisles where cases displayed
bleu cheeses, rude
bakery aromas intrude
on olives, pickles, and other
potent pleasers.                                      

Outside,
vendors compete through open doors –
cupcake stores, 
chocolate delis, luncheonettes and diners,
all hawking scents in the city.

And so the city blends.

Osterized olfactories send
from many aromas, one.

For my two city cents worth,
I, the prairie guy,
lilies freshen a mixed bouquet
but we struggle to note their
special flower way.                 

Dennis R. Keefe
April 26, 2008