Auto Shop Coffee

November 18, 2017

such a fool’s errand…

we patiently sip auto shop coffee and read People magazine

unaware it is our mind that is most in need of repair

Advertisements

The Table

November 15, 2017

“This old table has got to go,” my wife declared today

Old, indeed

And, admittedly, not very attractive

Well, really not at all

A hand me down from my wife’s father when we were married long ago

It bows a little in the middle

And wobbles a little more

The leaves slowly push themselves apart

Aging lovers tiring of each other’s charm

I sit silently in my weary, matching chair

Looking hard

Looking deep

The maple has darkened over time

The protective shine has worn away in many places

Allowing exposed grain to suck life in

Dust

Dirt

Greasy fingerprints of childhood ghosts

Flecks of cheap paint used for rainy-day art projects

And tiny, crushed-in cake crumbs from birthdays long forgotten

This is where we were

When life seemed like it would last forever

Of course we’ve since learned it doesn’t

This wooden slab served best friends

Close family

Neighborhood children

But, most days, just us

That was probably our preference

We ate big country breakfasts

Strange casseroles that were barely touched

Great-grandma’s homemade spaghetti recipe

Hotdogs and beans when times were tough

Grilled steak on summer Sundays

And carry out pizza for Friday fun

God, Fridays were fun

Game night

We just played Risk, I swear

Eating meals around the board for three days straight

So cautious not to disturb our patient armies

My wife was pissed, until she ended up winning

This is where we did homework together

Wrote letters to far-away people

Assembled toys on Christmas morning

Paid bills, and bills, and bills

Pieced together jigsaw puzzles in the dead of winter

And made important family decisions

I drank coffee here every Saturday morning

While loved ones faintly snored upstairs

The feeling of true contentment

This is where my babies sat

Being fed with little spoons

As they grew we only cut their food

Made them eat their vegetables

And finish their milk

When it wasn’t spilt

No use crying, but we sometimes shed a tear

Still, laughter was heard daily

And even an occasional prayer

Looking back now I realize many prayers were answered

Right here in our favorite spot.

The kids still come by every now and then

Though not too often, these days

Missed sorely, but never forgotten

“Suppose you’re right,” I finally reply

Running my wrinkled hand across our kitchen table.

Memory From a Past Life

November 12, 2017


In some past life I vividly recall sprinting in fear through a field of land mines just before dawn.

I came to a sudden halt when the light crested over the horizon, and through the smoky mist, a stunning orange sky began to slowly win the battle against the blackness that had been surrounding me.

Tiny pieces of sun flickered off the dewey amber grass, revealing the many bodies of fresh young troops lying near — damp and dead — frozen in time. 

Looking around I saw things you would never want to see. 

Things you don’t want to know. 

Things I refuse to tell. 

I ached with guilt for finding such peaceful beauty in this devastating scene. I sobbed hard, forever changed, as no man should ever have to be. 

No longer noticing the stench of decay, I inhaled deep cleansing wafts of the country air. I wiped the sweat and tears from my filthy face, feeling a bewildering sense of hope. 

A defiant step forward was misplaced, and my arms and legs were suddenly gone. I remember enjoying the sunrise a few short moments longer. 

Despite everything then and since, somewhere — hidden deep away– I still manage to carry some hope today. 

The Lobotomy

October 31, 2017


brain to think removed

the pumpkin could merely grin

his Carver was pleased

Burger and Fries

October 25, 2017


Hate and Fear 

rented the room upstairs

and they constantly stomp about.

Such heavy

heavy

weight

suffocates 

our black lungs and hearts 

but no one seems to care. 

We take a long, slow drag on a Marlboro, snorting smoke when the local TV weatherman cracks a joke… 

The news today seems familiar again

itchy trigger fingers and bloody streets

drug dogs in junior high school halls

the market reaches a new high 

while acid rain still falls

and falls

and 

falls.

Confusion, collusion, corrosion, and tears.

We make an improbable wish as we blow out our candles, then everyone smiles and claps, as if we must be so happy to start another year…

Missing uranium and wars to be waged

our biggest concern is a living wage 

to feed these hungry kids

while rich, fat pigs

grab some pussy

just 

for 

kicks.

We have no need to worry since prayers are being said, for the good Lord works in mysterious ways, they promise…

Goddamn foreigners on our land

paranoia shakes our hand

remember promises are cheap 

but mankind deserves a place to sleep — 

we all want this before our death. 

Disease, distrust, disgust and despair 

the sweet scent of decay begins to fill the air.

We grab a burger and fries, then bid our fond farewells…

Jesus Became a Capitalist

October 22, 2017


Jesus is a loving man deep inside his heart, but being born the Chosen One creates great pressure 

And modesty is a sinking ship, when assured how great thou art 

He grew weary from years of prayer requests — heal the sick, end the wars, and let us score a touchdown 

So he sold the family biz for a billion bucks, and flew a private jet out of town

Now he’s a scratch golfer with a hot, young wife, living just outside Palm Springs 

He attends church once a month, enjoys making wine, and contributes to many tax-deductible charities

There are occasional days — usually after tennis — when Jesus wonders if he should have done more

But a deep massage and sauna serve him well, a reminder he is happier than ever before

Jesus is a loving man deep inside his heart, but he’s called it quits, and we’re on our own…

It’s time we each start doing our part. 

The Coffee Shop

October 15, 2017


We get such enjoyment from our morning coffee, as we scan the news in the paper some early-rising patron left behind

The shootings, the rapes, the missing children…some order their coffee black, the bitter bite is a welcomed pat on the back

The poverty, the hunger, the creeping epidemic…some take their coffee with cream and sugar, it’s such a sweet, pleasant taste

We spy a blurb on the back page about a young soldier who lost his legs in Afghanistan. Shaking our heads, we toss the paper down and walk to the counter for one more tasty cup.