Anthony C. Hayes Archives - Baltimore Post-ExaminerBaltimore Post-Examiner

I Think She’s Hot

If I wanted to meet someone beautiful, right away, I’d think she’s hot. If I wanted to meet someone sensual, right away, I’d think she’s hot. If I wanted to meet someone spiritual, right away, I’d think she’s hot. If […]

I Think She’s Hot

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If I wanted to meet someone beautiful, right away, I’d think she’s hot. If I wanted to meet someone sensual, right away, I’d think she’s hot. If I wanted to meet someone spiritual, right away, I’d think she’s hot. If […]

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On Six Inch Heels

She struts the stage, coyly, of the Cold Chrome Club, somehow balanced on high six inch heels. Lithely wrapping her limbs ‘round a stainless steel pole, titillating whoever she feels. It’s a busy

Done With Bukowski

I’m done with Bukowski. Done with the stale cigar smoke and bar napkin sonnets. Done with the man ~ with the rueful pronouncements  poured out like yesterdays brew. Done.  And why not? My exes have all

He Haunts Me Still

Shallow, the blow of a harbor breeze     morn arrives with the autumn air Shallow, the breath of a tortured soul sunlight dies on a mortal fair Simple, the heart of a lowly child pennies poured will mark his plaque Simple, the

Death in Hampden

I want to be impaled on a pink flamingo laid out on John Waters lawn I want to see cat eye glasses mist up while Kix plays the Colts marching song I want to hear tributes in Roosevelt

Mare Crisium

Tomorrow was yesterday – the day imagination took flight; the day my sneakers touched the dust of that distant world. A sphere in the night, chalky white, I followed its rise and fall; the till of my telescope set upon the Tranquil Sea. With every

Miss Cyclone’s Last Ride

(The days of the nickel dates are long gone but the memories do endure for a pretty young girl of Italian descent and her stays on this storied shore.) Stepping first into the

Mae West on MySpace

I can almost hear her voice beckoning to, “Come up and see me sometime” Sequins shine, hugging curves which went out of fashion, back when coffee still cost a dime. Her profile reads like a back room novel; her

A Party of One

Strange. It seems the rims don’t seal quite as well as she remembers. And the colors; the greens and yellows have given way to cold casts of cobalt and white. Strange. To be a wife

Newspappers

Obsolete

I don’t know anymore what’s cool or keen or what you mean when you say “whatever” Someway, one day when I wasn’t looking someone changed the rules of the game. People twice my age I always called Sir or

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