The Poem of Spring
When the trees flower pink and white
filigree, and the sleeping
god comes back to life
here, where our mountains preside
so drably much of the year
now, when the walls of our valleys
are so green, green, green on all sides,
and our eyes see easy
before Nature gets carried away
and squeezes out too much Fire
and it all burns dead again,
you want to pin it
down with your pen
so it will never slip away,
this elixir,
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poem by Max Reif
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Random Foursome
Just a little while ago,
that bald African-American
who's sitting at the window booth,
that young, unshaven fellow
with the earring and the cap,
that silver-haired Caucasian
daydreaming in his polo shirt
and I, were congregated,
quite by chance
around the coke machine.
'How 'bout a game of golf? '
I could have said,
though of course, they would
have thought me mad.
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poem by Max Reif
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This Moment
This moment on the road
St. Louis to Chicago
on a sunny day,
AC breze in my face,
hat band a little tight on my head, brim
coming down into my field of vision,
pen in hand, notebook
poised on the steering wheel,
specks of dirt on the windshield,
my body at perfect
rest on the cushioned seat
as the soothing green
corn and trees slide by
on both sides of the highway,
120 miles from St. Louis,180 to Chi,
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poem by Max Reif
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The Petition (revision)
The Petition
The political guy accosted me
at the entrance to the BART.
'Are you a registered California voter? '
I had to admit I was.
Bright and cheery: 'I've got three petitions
for you to sign—for clean water, clean air,
and education.' My guard went up.
It always goes up.
I glanced at the petition,
saw the phrase 'cigarette tax'.
I'd heard a radio show
about its pros and cons—
some educated people believe
it will take money away
from education, because people
will quit smoking,
rather than pay so much.
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poem by Max Reif
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Talking Ambition
I got up this morning and the dim
pink in the distant sky
made the drooping willow tree
some unknown color, as the world,
bathed in mystery, slowly, drowsily awoke,
and I set out upon its pathways
in my car, following a winding back road
that led to another road,
that let to many others, so you know
I could have wound up anywhere.
Gazing out at the pink sky
and the willow and the hills beyond,
I saw no limits to joy
except the one thought:
'I've got to go back to work soon! '
That's after these four days off,
four unbounded days to explore,
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poem by Max Reif
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Two California Parks in Early Spring
I. Concord Skateboard Park
Sheltered in this smooth, round,
concrete nest of dips and curves,
obelisks and giant, Mayan steps
on a blind corner
hidden by small hills
from two busy streets
intersecting at its tip,
Twenty boys,8 to 18,
practice their moves,
swiveling one-pointedly
up and down and around.
Some day they’ll move on
from this birthing-ground,
swiveling down the decades
on a board or office chair.
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poem by Max Reif
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A Personal History and Mythology of Blue Jeans
In the old movies,
The women wore
Skirts and dresses.
Marilyn Monroe,
In “River of No Return”,
Had on tight blue jeans.
Mom wore dresses.
(Did women have legs,
Or were they
Like mermaids under there?
And why did they leave
a toilet full of blood, sometimes?)
In the mid ‘50s
She got some tight pants,
With green, vertical lines
And some kind of flower pattern.
She had legs, and an ass.
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poem by Max Reif
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