He doesn’t remember the days
he went from being remarkable to unnoticed
loved to unwanted
cherished to forgotten
he was just another human sliding down the spectrum of life
Traffic
He doesn’t look distraught
but he appears deep in thought
and doesn’t look others’ way
Not a way to drive
if you want to stay alive
on a busy traffic day
The Masses
The masses block the sidewalks
with their asses.
Unseeing or caring
by others looking and staring,
absorbed by the grievances
they’re airing.
Perfumed
The perfume of you and I
still intertwines
with the thoughts of what we doing
what we meant to say
before we went away
left me wondering who we think we’re fooling
we never talk
and stay distant in our walks
with a feeling that something’s brewing
it never boils and never perks
but it’s always there, it always lurks
I think our love is cooling
PINS and Needles
Approaching the ATM, I process a mental flowchart. Which account am I using today? What PIN is required? There’s a line, so I wait, but while waiting, I begin to doubt that I’ve remembered the correct PIN for this account. I start going through PINs and their applications. Some were based on phone numbers, prompting recall of the whole telephone number and where I lived then, triggering memory of the address and where I worked, and my office number, further driving me from certainty that I have the right number, and suddenly opening up a memory chasm which swallows the PIN I’m supposed to be using, launching me into panic about the fucking PIN number – number is redundant, you idiot – and then it’s my turn and I step up and remember —
And then it’s all good. All that worrying was for naught.
Midday Palate Cleanser
Clawtermined (catfinition) – when a cat decides to employ their claws to take a prize.
In use: See this example of a cat clawtermined to get a bagel posted on Mock Paper Scissors.
I never knew cats were fans of bagels.
“You gonna finish that?”
Don’t You Hate It?
Don’t you hate it when you’re stopped behind two other cars, because they’ve legally stopped for a person in the crosswalk, and the car coming up behind you whips into the other land and accelerates to about ten M.P.H. over the speed limit and just misses the pedestrian in the crosswalk?
Yeah, I don’t think the man in the crosswalk was happy, either. Mindful of people being like icebergs, with so much of them hidden out of sight, I wonder what kind of idiot is driving that car.
Day #101
I like the sun
I like the rain
I like how the day
smells this way
I like the breeze
that’s sometimes a wind
I like the scents
that tease and spin
I like the hours passing me by
and the time spent
with no one asking me why
Distance Calling
The distance calls me
I try to see
who it is and what they want from me
the distance calls me
from outside
full of hate and telling me lies
the distance calls me
the people I know
urging me to love and telling me to grow
the distance calls me
without knowing why
I hide away and slip inside
The Trap
He doesn’t want his father to die, but this person that he sees every day doesn’t tell the jokes that his father used to make, and he doesn’t drink beer and coffee, doesn’t go walking with his dog, or wash his cars, or go for drives (driving too fast), or watch television and argue about sports.
He doesn’t want this man to die, even though his beard is white and wispy, and his hair is gone, and the lean, tall body sags like a worn fence, and he no longer barks out demands and orders.
He doesn’t want this man to die, the drooling one who sits in a chair and stares most of the day, the one that doesn’t eat much, mostly eating candy when he does eat, the man who doesn’t remember his name and needs help to use the toilet.
He doesn’t want this man to die, no matter what kind of wreck he is, because he knows that he’s still his father, and he will miss him more when he’s gone.
But he doesn’t want this man to suffer any more, because he is his father, so he comes every day, visiting and waiting, wondering and remembering, wishing that he had hope for something besides what it is.
