American Boy, Pushing Sixty

AMERICAN BOY: Pushing Sixty

About life and growing up in New Jersey in the 1950s,1960s, and 1970s, and growing older in the 1980s, 1990s and the oughts.

By Anthony Buccino

From the center of the Baby Boom, this working class verse begins under a wooden class room desk as an air raid siren sounds, and captures the summer spell and its simplicity in drinking water from a garden hose.

"I read your book through and through twice. Absolutely enjoyed it. Your words flow so freely."

On Kindle    NOOK

Small Press Reviews

Voices on the Bus

VOICES ON THE BUS
train, subway, sidewalk and
in my head

by Anthony Buccino

Verse  about commuting in Northern New Jersey.

Feel the rhythm of the rails as you travel the last days of the Newark City Subway, or the PATH, and be relieved you are not present to hear the Preacher Man or Mr. Tourette's but do listen for the noise above the hum of the wheels and turn your ear to the voices on the bus, train or standing nearby on the platform.

More


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One Morning in Jersey City

ONE MORNING IN JERSEY CITY

Verse written along the Hudson River in Jersey City, N.J.

By Anthony Buccino

You can hear a lot by looking around. Sometimes, standing along the Hudson River shoreline, you can dream of the freedom in the sailing beauty slipping through the waves, or question the signals proffered by a hungry seagull, or ponder why the pigeons follow you. Or you could sit ever so still and listen to the clatter of heels on the tile as the cigarette mafia heads outside for fresh air. 

You probably don't think of this as a 9/11 book, most readers don't, but that's what it is. In 1999, divine providence put me in a job on the eighth floor of a building directly across the Hudson River from lower Manhattan and the Twin Towers.
For the next ten years I saw Jersey City's building boom and strolled along the Riverwalk with Manhattan just a glance away. I could walk out on a pier and look north to the Washington Bridge and south to the Verrazano Bridge all the while soaking up the ambiance of city life in the shadow of a big city across the way.
And so, this book that resulted in 2008 is a bit of before, some every day life, and some after. Just thought you might like to know that.

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RITUAL (second tier decorations)

In the cold attic they wait.
The heat of summer long gone,
the chill of December wheezing through
eave vents, we pull down drop-stairs
and peer into the darkness above.
Flip the light, start shifting boxes
hand them down to the second floor.
Sort house decorations to the top of the stairs,
boxes of ornaments and tree lights
into the spare room.
Boxes done, light off, stairs up.

Begin the first floor boxes.
Sorting and primping.
The singing mouse goes on the TV.
The snowman collection to the mantel.
The Santa collectibles to the breakfront.
The mistletoe to the doorway, and the wire mesh basket
to the finishing nail on the back of the front door
to await Christmas cards that will overflow.
The tree light box decorations to the end of the sofa
next to the three-foot stuffed Santa.
Another Santa sits on the stairs awaiting cover of darkness
to trip someone. (Usually me.)

And on and on it goes for hours
until all the good decorations
are out and the second tier decorations
are back in their boxes, the boxes that go
up to the attic to await the passing
of the holiday when all the ornaments
will be together again in the silent darkness
of our attic.

-- Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved. Photos and content may not be used without written permission.

BTW - That chemistry set in the back never did come to anything good except in the decision not to pursue the sciences...
******************

FINGERNAILS

Fingernails scratch the paper,
They point at a blank page.
A voice says, "Write something!"
So, he writes: "Fingernails
scratch the paper,
They point to a blank page."
#468
1974

-- Copyright © 1974, 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved. Photos and content may not be used for commercial purposes without written permission.
First published in DAYS YOU KNEW ME.
Written overlooking the baseball fields in Brookdale Park, Montclair/Bloomfield, N.J.

ONE TRUE LOVE

ONE TRUE LOVE

Did you spend the last fifty years with her
in the morning kitchen worrying together
through evening bouts of doubt
Are the children safe?
The grand kids okay?
Will the K-car start tomorrow?
Can we afford to fix it if it won’t?
What’s on cable TV tonight?
Is your dog getting enough cheese?

Did your one true love leave you
looking like a frigging penguin
standing alone outside the prom hall
with that stupid look on your face?

What about those wild nights
and the long rides
and the long talks?
Where did those endless roads lead?
But for your one true love to someone else
and you shifting through an empty cupboard.

Have you carried around your broken heart
crushed so long ago by your one true love
or have you mended and moved on
to find the one other person in this world
who could love you this much?

Do the stitches in your mended heart still sting?
Do they twitter and twitch with reminded regrets
on those days when nothing will go your way
and you long for the one true love who got away,
forgetting for an instant the one who holds your hand?

- By Anthony Buccino
From AMERICAN BOY: Pushing Sixty

On Kindle

Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino
Photo and content may not be used for commercial purposes without written permission.

WHAT'S IT LIKE TO BE

What’s it like to be
Married to different people
At different times, of course,
But how is it different?
Do you spend a lot of time
Comparing this one with that one?
Do you try not to repeat mistakes
That you’ve learned?
What is it like
Each day to be with
Somebody who is
Different than the one
You thought you’d spend
The rest of your days with?

- By Anthony Buccino
From AMERICAN BOY: Pushing Sixty
On Kindle
Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved.

FIRST KISS

No wonder he had to steal a kiss! (1970)

My first kiss came on a cold November night,
A Saturday after Thanksgiving in a stranger’s church.

My first kiss was a surprise, not for me,
I’d been thinking about it all night.
But she was surprised when she tried
to shake my hand in peace I charged in
and stole that kiss.

Her light blue eyes – I am still remembering
And the round cheeks of her smiling face
That Saturday I kissed her.
It was the only time.
On Monday we headed back to Jersey
And I never saw her again.

- By Anthony Buccino
From AMERICAN BOY: Pushing Sixty

On Kindle

Remembering November 1970

Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved. Photos and content may not be used for commercial purposes without written permission.