Mike Platsky

Hey!, aren't you that guy
Don't I remember you from back in the day
back when the sun rose bright orange
glistening through dancing leaves
birdsong drifting across soft breeze,
scented scented spiced air
spreading odor beyond the unexplored

didn't I see you sprawled across grey granite
above the great lawn of breathing grass
green with anticipation of the approaching footsteps
under a canopy of dripping wax candle brick mountains
measuring the coming and goings across the borders of time
wasn't that you? trying to defy gravity in motionless bliss
slipping through the cracks slowly eroding
your rubber legs and eggshell heart
were you the guy shooting bottle rockets off the penthouse patio
hurling towards stone faced Greek philosophers' 
perched against the flower beds lit in nightshade shadows
sparks falling harmlessly below the crabapple trees

Was that you?, teary eyed from tear gas
splashed water provided by strangers
removing the sting of authority from your face
while you vowed to return again and again
until the color splashes out the black and white of it all
riding the momentum of rising tides
sweeping the dirty lies aside to join uncollected garbage
was that you?, sitting cross legged in the midst of a riot
when all the lights went out, and beer was given for free
when the shattered glass fell all around
when the looters ran amok
was that you?, watching the world crack open
and you just smiled in blissful resignation


MICHAEL PLATSKY was born and raised in Brooklyn New York in the late fifties and sixties. He has read his poetry at readings in New York City and the Hudson valley for over twenty years, and hosted an open mic reading in Woodstock New York for twelve years.