David Plumb grew up in North Adams, Massachusetts and attended Syracuse University. He worked as a medical technician, paramedic and laboratory technician during those years. One evening he went to a party where someone was reading Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s Coney Island of the Mind. The next day, he began to write. After his tour as a U.S. Naval Officer, he rented a farmhouse in upstate New York, where he worked in a slaughterhouse for not enough cash and all the heart and tongue he could take home. Then he worked and hitchhiked to San Francisco where. he published Journal 31, and directed the Intersection Poetry Series. In 1991 he was one of 48 people world-wide to present at the first International Conference on Literature and Addiction at the University of Sheffield, UK. Writing has appeared in The Miami Herald, The Washington Post, The Orlando-Sentinel, Alimentum, St. Martin’s Anthology, Mondo James Dean and 100 Poets Against the War, Salt Press. Books include The Music Stopped and Your Monkey’s on Fire, Man in a Suitcase,, Drugs and All That and A Slight Change in the Weather. Will Rogers said, “Live in such a way that you would not be ashamed to sell your parrot to the town gossip.” I say, “It depends on the parrot, but, if you care to insert your opinion in the jukebox, you’ve got a song coming.”

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FORUM

SELECTED POETRY

by
David Plumb

ONE OF THE COOL ONES

You obsess about the woman
you met at the conference on Ipod health
who took an immediate liking to you.
She’s odd, strange, a nut case.
You like the type.
Half in the clouds, the rest all business
In this case, she took care of the uncle
who had Parkinson’s until he died.
That’s what she said over Pasta Alfredo
in the dark restaurant just off
the southeast end of Boston Commons,
the one with the bad salad and the waiter with zits
You liked her, you got along, you walked her
to the small hotel with the doorman who eyed you wearily.
He’d seen you before.
And it seemed nothing more than friendly when
you leaned over to peck her cheek
and this big whacky woman
this woman who is not on the cover
of any hot magazine but she is the cover and the show
why her mouth sucked you right to heaven and that was that.
You were back on the street trying to wipe lipstick off in the dark.
So here you are on this snowy day
obsessing, wanting to lick every inch of her
bite her, only she is in Rio; she just called.
Her studio overlooks Sugarloaf, what a view!
Later she’s going to the Amazon to paint
Would you care to come along?
Yes Carnival was fine, yes she danced.
She’s almost a pro-fessional dancer.
She has International status she said.
That’s what she said from Rio.
And the snow sweeps the window
and you obsess about her legs
her mouth, the rest and
the snow falls down.

© David Plumb

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MS. HOT

She lies in the green beach chair
wearing that orange checkered bikini,
a slice of creamy breast exposed.
Head rest at thirty degrees so she can read,
she glances up at me and back to her book,
not interested in my loose pants
blue chambray shirt, tails out.
I must seem older and I feel older
and probably more sedate, quiet maybe
too gentile which I am and am not
what she thinks she wants
lying right at street's edge in her orange
checkered bikini reading a book.

Now I’ve seen the young guy who hangs
his white starched security guard
shirts in his Cabriolet back seat.
At ten p,m. she puts him out.
The bearded electrician, say thirty, who drives
a red Ford long bed stops in for a 6 a.m quicky now and then.
The fifty plus drives a Mercury Sabre
wears a painter's hat, gets to park next to her Jeep
with the brown canvas doors she's forever leaving open to air.
He gets to stay one, maybe two days, a weekend.
Or the cop, squad car number 9677
parked out front two days last month.
He sat on her couch in uniform.

She sizzles and I pretend not to look.
Flat tummy, round breasts, fine peach butt.
If only I can stride by looking more mechanic than head.
Appear simple, uncomplicated and manageable
which I am and am not carrying my bread
my milk gallon in two plastic bags.
I want her to YES, stop reading that damn book
in her left hand and smile up at me hard as time,
soft as the moment and say
come on in. Do come IN.

But she doesn’t bite and I walk on
thinking I’ll drop her a note some day
that says, when you get to heaven
They’ll recognize you as that forever sexy woman.
And whoever minds the gate will say,
‘Listen, we’ve been expecting you.
We appreciate you. We really do.’

© David Plumb

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AN AIRPORT FARE

He was from Maine, in town on business
Three kids, the usual good wife
Nice house, a little too, too perhaps
I could see him jump around back there
When I said I was a poet and drove cab part time
He leaned forward and our eyes met in the rearview mirror
You're so free, he said with lightness in his voice
Like he'd seen a new sky beyond clouds and I slowed down
on the grade past Candlestick Park
Listen,I said. Go home to your wife and three kids.
You pay a price for this freedom.
Then he sat back and settled into his suit
And I drove him to his freedom

© David Plumb

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MORNING AT THE SUPERMARKET

I had just picked my bag
of ice from the freezer
when he went down
between the produce counters
to my right
Thick, gray pants
short sleeved shirt
checkered blue
He hit the floor and lay there
eyes half closed
and I watched
his crotch grow piss-wet
Wife stood beside him
staring down
almost as if she knew
it had to happen
And it happened at
eight something A.M
I remember clearly
The wife standing in her dream
The curious faces closing in
bland, silent and fuzzy
And between the silence
A grapefruit fell
from the shelf and rolled
right past his left eye
The last thing he ever saw?
Who knows?
Just a grapefruit
to be picked up
and set back on the shelf
How we beat the was of because
One grapefruit.
One bag of ice

© David Plumb

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OR WHAT?

The last chapter was called
how to get out of dodge
without a parachute
but who I am to ascertain
the be of been
the what of if
and then some?
We go to bed
in winsome extremity
adolescence and unzipped promises.
At this stage no escape.
I could have bought a cave for that price
but I walked. Left
my credit card on the kitchen table
I can out cook anytime
and if I’m careful
walk into sunlight
talk deals have more rewards
than waiting for ducks
that never line up.
You ought to stop over.
We’ll discuss it.
What do you think, Darling?
How about another swim
in the eternal fishbowl?
We can dance.

© David Plumb

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I AM ME

I am cell phone
Head phone, pretzel
A movie, retro, jazz
R and B
I am Eminem
M & M, I am
A hamburger
An ear of wires, a loan
On a house I
Am cell phone
I am talking
I am talking
To you
Can you tell?
You can tell
I am almost
There, yes!
Almost. See!
I’ll call
You later
I am yes
A singer
Me.

© David Plumb

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