Rushed

Catering to his beloved pet’s needs, he opened the back door for his ginger feline. “Go on, then. I’m telling you, it’s freezing out there. You’ll be sorry. You’ll want back in after a few minutes.”took

Despite sunshine, icy air was rushing through the open door. Tail up, the cat bounced forward with a posture that called forth a heroic flourish of trumpets.

Halfway out, the cat went still, paws caught in motion.

“In or out,” he snapped. “Come on, cold air is filling the house, and all the heat is getting out.” He could hear the furnace kicking on. “Damn it — ”

The cat chittered. An enormous scrub jaw was hopping about the icy grass. Apparently seeing the cat, it flapped it wings with an outraged screech and took flight.

The cat ran out but the bird was gone. The cat scowled back at the man with an irritated tail swish (oh, yes, cats can scowl). He was clearly saying, “I could have gotten him if you hadn’t rushed me.”

“Right,” the man replied with a dismissing snort. “That bird was bigger than you. Let me know when you want back in.” He closed the door as the cat walked away, tall up, all forgiven, searching the yard for another distraction.

I Was Here

The inertia of being comfortable kept me holding still

the fear of failing stopped me from courting risks

the weariness of trying sheltered me in place

the leeriness of being exposed trapped me in my space

Death Grip

She got that death grip on the wheel

she’s not letting go

not slowing down

no, not taking it slow

doesn’t matter where she’s going

long as she gets there fast

doesn’t care about the journey

that’s for others to make it last

she’s pouring through gaps

riding hard and leaving free

swerving around obstacles with abandon

like buildings, pedestrians, and trees

Don’t know where she’s going

that’s for others to find out

she’s moving ahead

forging past fear and doubt

we all glimpse her

wanting to see

who’s that girl with that death grip

we’re all wishing that it could be me

Word

The word is given

we gotta go

through that door

either quick or slow

We think we know what’s up

think we know it’s time

though we’ve been wrong before

we keep swallowing the same lines

so on we go, on our way

not understanding

it’s the same game

by another name

 

The Cookies

“The cookies are easy to make,” she told Cindy after sharing the recipe with her. “You should make them when your grandchildren come up. They came up. It’d be fun.”

“Good idea. I will.”

A few days later, Barb ran into Cindy. “We made the cookies,” Cindy said.

“And…?”

“They burned.”

“What?”

“Tell me the recipe again.”

“You start with tortillas and cut them out with cookie cutters.”

“I did that.”

“Then you put them on the baking sheet and brush them with butter.”

“Butter! You didn’t mention butter.”

“I think I did…but, after you brush them with butter, you dust them with cinnamon and sugar.”

“Sugar! You didn’t say anything about sugar.”

“Do you want me to send you an email with the recipe?”

“No, I’ll have my son-in-law find them for me.”

Secrets

He lived a private life, a reclusive millionaire by day, porn addict at night.

His car was polished to a gleam that blinded others. The carpets, rugs, and hardwood floors in his house seemed like they were never used. White teeth in a bright smile, hair groomed and cultivated (almost like a model), he wore fashionable clothes with casual ease, hiding the deformities of his soul. Nothing was out on the counters where others might start learning the truth. These were hidden in drawers and cupboards, tucked away behind other materials, not found without a lengthy search…unless you knew where to look.

Yes, he had his secrets, nothing that he would share with others. He had secrets that he never spoke of even to himself, afraid that if he did, he might give himself away.

Just in Passing

That time is gone

the energy spent

the road left behind

resentments left unsaid

 

All that remains

is peering ahead

crossing new bridges

dodging monsters in your head

 

Think about yesterday

dream about tomorrow

Go on through life

deal with the frustration and sorrow

 

Then get up and out

get gone and back

live one more day

and do it again

 

 

Future Past

The worst thing was when the wall between time cracked. Seeing the future, he began remembering it, and then started living his life for it, scaring everyone else, because they remembered nothing of the future.

Hell, they barely recalled the past.

That left him alone. Terrible ideas teased him. If no one remembered the future or the past, did now really matter?

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