Side Effects

 

 

If we stay here the side effects are chills, frost bite and limited mobility.

If we take the Florida pill the side effects are itching and random swatting

 

If we take the Mid-west pill we will appear wind-blown, disheveled and lose our balance

 

No one can afford the California pill

 

Swallowing the Lone Star pill leads to dehydration and
 heat stroke

 

The great northwest pill has caused roof rot in some laboratory animal housing

 

The D.C. pill has been known to cause the following;

Greed

Arrogance

Loss of conscience

Verbal diarrhea

Megalomania

Short & Long term memory loss

Short-sightedness

and Truth Avoidance Disorder

 

 

Please consult your Doctor before exercising your judgment. 

 Remember...

When the Angels want to punish us they grant our wishes.

 

 

 

A. E. Housman

 

 

"I lay me down and slumber,

and every morn revive -

Whose is the night-long breathing

that keeps me man alive.

 

When I was off to dreamland

and left my limbs forgot,

Who stayed at home to mind them

and breathed when I did not?

 

I waste my time in talking

No heed at all takes he

My kind and foolish comrade

That breathes all night for me."

 

 

 



Defending the Waldorf

 

Walking across the giant salad felt like I was walking on thick padded carpet.  Occasional strips of carrot snapped like twigs beneath my feet as I stepped.  My walking stick, now that I think about it, looked much like a tall salad fork, collecting odd leafy things each time I plunged it down for support and balance.

 

Mushroom caps were larger than they should have been and getting around them at times was awkward.   A strong odor of onion was making me tear up and it was difficult to breath.  As I made my way across I began to feel quite strange, maybe even a little dizzy.  I noticed my arms and legs looked somewhat red and irritated.  I may have been breaking out in a radish.  This was not good.  I had gotten myself into a real pickle.  Even my dog, Flower, had run off.  He was a Collie.

 

               I had to be careful crossing to the far side.  I could just picture myself slipping and falling, being left for dead.  Odd thoughts soon filled my head, like – Lettuce pray.  Large areas around me seemed to resemble a battle field.  There were broken and snapped peas, small sprouts that looked way too young to be here.   Up ahead I spotted an asparagus spear.  I picked it up.  I might need it later; who knows what crazy Garbanzo could suddenly attack me?

         I glanced over at that potato.  The look in his eyes made me think of that time I saw Arty choke.

 

         For a moment I thought I heard somebody toss something.  It startled me - I called out,

 

                “Caesar!  is that you?”

 

 

Lest ye be...

 

 

Everyone was in the hall

waiting to go back inside

like actors in a dramatic play

spectators, reporters, family members

and me -

 

“Jury’s back.” - the bailiff’s voice

opening the door yet no one moved

as if suddenly none of us wanted to know

or see –

 

“Back inside, again the bailiff -

the judge is drawing near.”

but a knowing had swept across the crowd

there was nothing left for us

nothing we needed to hear –

 

A newsman packed up his camera

a lady in a long coat turned

putting on her gloves

and a collective sadness filed out of the courthouse

 

some headed to the parking structure

others – the bus stop,

nobody was talking

the city felt different – quieter

lonely.

 

A single tugboat was making its way

down the lethargic river

but there were no barges to move

or cruise ships to park –

not so much as a sleeve to tug.

 

 

 

 

 

Food for Thought

 

 

The books on my shelf

are not always true,

Some of them borrowed

some over due –

 

Like the food in my fridge

some of its old,

Some has gone fuzzy

all of its cold –

 

The clothes in my closet

hang wrinkled and pressed,

Some keep me warm

all keep me dressed –

 

The words on this page

like things that I’ve said,

All came from thoughts

that exist in my head –

 

Some of them wrinkled

fuzzy and old,

Some may be true

most stay untold -

 

The difference of course

and there isn’t a doubt,

When I close my eyes

the light don't go out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Not a Morning Person

     They sat at the breakfast table.  He crunched the loud cereal; the same cereal he always ate from that annoyingly cheerful box while she clutched with both hands her warm coffee mug.  It was almost too warm to grasp but she felt if she didn’t hold on tight she would fall away like someone in the movies - just falling and falling forever.

 

     Her eyes were closed as she tried desperately to focus on the distant train whistle instead of the crunch, crunch, crunch that seemed to be getting louder almost echoing in her head, as if the crunch had become the train and she was helplessly in front of it about to be flattened. 

 

     A large part of her wanted to let go – wanted to fall far away but instead she slowly brought the cup up to her lips and as she gently blew across its steam she opened her eyes and stared at him.

     He could sense her stare and stopped eating long enough to look up from his bowl.  He flicked his tail and began to purr.  She smiled, though only slightly, and took a sip.

     Maybe the day would get better.


 

 

 

 

Уродливые грибы

 

 

One ugly mushroom

 

 



Downtown

 

     The sidewalk is thick with overcoats attempting to make their way through the city.  Mine has made this trip long enough to collect and forever hold the smells of hotdog vendors, oriental spices and despair.  I have a face that goes unnoticed and is quickly forgotten by those who bother to focus.  It is an existence that I’ve learned to accept and it comes with the comfort in knowing that I am only followed by the memory of where I’ve just been and my own footprints.

 

     The brim of my hat blocks out the tallness of the buildings as well as signals the height of my ambition.  I look no farther ahead than the next obstacle - quickly calculating the path of least resistance.  I’ve become quite skilled at sidewalk travel – though I’d hardly recommend it.

   It is the tourist that will trip you up.  The squeak of a postcard rack and their ears perk up, they'll stop abruptly or suddenly turn.

 

     Nobody can prepare for something like that.

 

Trailer Park Recipe

     I see the trailer park as a kind of mixing bowl into which everything in the kitchen has been tossed.

    There are quite a few marshmallows, some hard boiled eggs and of course an assortment of nuts.  It is the blending of these things at various temperatures that result in occasional screams, the breaking of glass and once in a great while a gun shot - like an oven door slamming shut - causing various elements to quickly fall. 

     I write this not from first hand experience but from a lifetime of seeing Hollywood portray them as undesirable.  They occupy a place in life which is always the farthest point possible from glamorous, causing even the dogs assigned there to yap instead of bark.

     Had I Hemmingway’s pen I’d be hard- pressed not to place a scruffy motorcycle in front of 1165 Dusty Trails, or a smattering of old newspapers around the mail box just down the street, all containing dismal headlines.  Perhaps it is only my mental image of trailer parks that remains unkempt. 

     I may have to start flossing between thoughts just to scrape away the build-up of preconceived notions.

 

     I'll start by trying to picture them in color.