6.24.2005

I'm Not Gepetto

I heard the word before
& I've seen those porcelain dolls
they sell on TV at night
but yesterday
when I stood next to you
on the escalator
to the PATH, well,
when I looked at your face
& your almond shaped, sparkling eyes
& perfectly smooth skin
I thought I was looking
at a doll from the TV
& you were that dollface.

Your face is indescribably perfect.
It is perfect
but not the only face of perfect.
It always surprises me
that someone as beautiful as you
would ever talk to me, a gnome.

I'm no movie star.
I'm no rich man.
I'm old
with fat ankles
& lines in my face
& getting older
&, of course,
I mean nothing
by saying hello.
It's just that when you do
it's as though a ceramic doll
came to life & I am
Gepetto
or someone else
equally lucky.

Copyright 2005 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved

I save words in my head
that travel well to paper,
& need glasses
to read what I wrote.

Your face, your cheeks
& yes, your eyes
remind me of photographs
I've seen of my mother
at about your age
& funny as it seems
my father once upon a time
called her dollface, too.

By Anthony Buccino
Copyright 2005, all rights reserved

6.17.2005

Fall at the Mall

Washington, DC
Copyright 2005 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved The Washington Monument
Copyright 2005 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reservedNear WWII Memorial

Copyright 2005 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved A Legacy

It was awkward to leave copies of my books at the WWII memorial. I left them in the area representing the campaign where my dad served for most of the war, Guadalcanal. Stangers immediately picked them up and looked at them. Then put them back in place knowing they would go into the collection of artifacts left here.

The war gave me the freedom to grow up in the idyllic 1950s and later realize the sacrifices that provided that canopy.

Almost 60 years after my dad went through the Panama Canal, my daughter and I began work memorializing the many young men from our towns who never came back from war.

In the long run I hope my Dad would be happy with the work we turned in.

That seemed to be confirmed when nearly 20 of his long-lost letters from the front turned up in his best friend's trunk long-forgotten in an attic in Nutley. I finally met my father as a young man.

And somehow, leaving copies of the first editions of the two books at the WWII Memorial seemed an appropriate way to say thanks to my dad and those in our books and their families.

Copyright 2005 Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved.

6.16.2005

Running Pigeons

Running pigeons scoot away
As you close in
Nearby the truck raises its mast
The sky threatens rain
The air traffic grumbles overhead


Buildings change shape in this light
Shadows appear, contrasts too
That weren’t there pop out
Say, “Look at me instead of
Running pigeons.”

Keep your skin pricked up
For the wind that turns cold
& foreshadows rain
and the cloud burst ahead

Copyright 2005 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved

Hop skip & jump through
The signs on the ground
Asleep, directing no one
Rusting in the dirt
Behind the Power Station
Run down abandoned, too,
Dilapidated, wide open
For flying pigeons to roost
& rear their hawk meals

Copyright 2005 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved

Animated chatting, a sip of Joh
A drag on a super premium filter
With low tar low nicotine
and teeth yellowing carcinogens
Animated about chimney cleaning
About where to park on
These streets full of tolls
Spike heels & milk white legs
That woman in black skirt
and white blouse, pink sweater
is milling in the show
of the rain clouds

Who are you. Everyone
Wears a name tag
Like some futuristic
Science fiction film
We laughed at years ago
You must have your plastic
Without it you are nothing
You are nobody you can
Go no where with no one
Or live on the street
In the underground
Economy that the plastic
People pass – while
engaged & mumbling
into their wrist phones
“Come in, Dick Tracy.”

We learned
But the sun is out now
and the pigeons have hobbled
somewhere for grit and chow
& the time now here is over
Whoever you are

Copyright © 2005 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved. Content may not be used for commercial purposes without written permission.