La Boheme

 

Although I can’t understand a single word, I enjoy some opera, and it’s better if I don’t know the story behind it.  Not sure why.

 

I would support a Nation-wide band on Hallmark Movies.  Just sayen…

 

 I think Tootsie Rolls should be free to everyone and supplied by the government, maybe with large distribution centers in every town.

 

Anyone becoming a member of an HOA governing board should first pass a personality assessment and common-sense exam and never be given a podium or gavel.

 

All automobiles costing more than two years’ wages should come with free bumper-to-bumper coverage for life.  Paid for by health insurance companies, of course.

 

 

 

There’s no limit to creation

within my imagination

somewhere short of pure stagnation

but without continuation.

 

Whenever I get stuck like this, just give me a nudge.

 

 

 

 

Thanks

 

 

 

Always at Dusk

 

Trust me, you don’t want to be out on the lake at dusk.  Just last week our neighbor was out in his little fishing boat.  The thing is not much bigger than a canoe.   While he was sitting out there, just watching his bobber, hoping for a nibble, he heard a strange noise, like it was right next to him.  It really spooked him and so he reeled his line in and came into shore. 

After dragging his boat up onto the shore he noticed fingerprints on the outside of the boat.  They looked to be fresh, like some kids would write, Wash Me on a dirty car.  But none of the prints were there when he slipped the boat into the water.  How did they get there and from where?  It was as if someone beneath the surface of the lake was trying to pull themselves up. 

I would have thought Ken would have been smarter than to go out at dusk.  I mean, the eerie stories have circulated around this neighborhood since I’ve lived here.  I’m almost positive he would have heard them all by now.

It’s like the lake at dusk is no longer just a lake.  It becomes a portal to who-knows-where.

to be continued

Sign-up Sheet

 

There are empty hallways where factories once grew.  Office carpet that is no longer destined to wear-out. 

These are the discarded wrappers of society. Life’s litter.

Silent timeclocks hanging on broken walls.  Buildings so full of quiet they are deafening.

 

       This is the footprint of progress.  Missed and crumpled schedules, dead forklifts and petrified cranes remain motionless.  Back-orders never to be filled, switchboards that no longer blink and conveyer belts without a pulse.

 

       From the highway, travelers see only broken windows and grass growing up through empty parking lots.  They cannot see the old sign-up sheet still posted for the company picnic.  In pencil, Bob’s name, saying he’ll bring the mustard.

 

 

        ZC

There's a reason it's called Left to Write

 

Presently everything runs smoothly

all the gears mesh

there is good, clean oil

and the timing is perfect.

 

Toss in an editor, a supervisor

a manager, scheduler and bean counter

and it all falls apart.

 

An influx of ideas and suggestions

an unfavorable blend of personalities

and before you know it

 

It all gets Blogged down.

 

 

            ZC

 

The Send-off

 

It was the gathering of umbrellas
along with the quietness of the crowd
that seemed to put a damper on the funeral.

Unlike a wedding
there were no dress rehearsals
they had to get it right
the first time.

It’s a shame he couldn’t be here
He would have loved this
everyone dressed up
looking good.

 

 

 

Perfection is a Rumor

The oboe adds to the mystery, just as a campfire adds to a ghost story.   Some things just go together.  Of course, there are always mismatches.  There are some otherwise perfect jobs out there but then there is an obnoxious boss in the mix, not qualified to supervise a house plant.  Once in a while, if I choose to add cream to my morning coffee, lumps come floating to the top.

It isn’t a question of taking the good with the bad, it’s why does the bad have to show up at all?  It seems to be sprinkled in all aspects of daily living.  An air bubble in the toothpaste that suddenly sends a sputter across the bathroom mirror, or you peel the little sticker off the apple only to discover that is where the bad spot is.

Then again, maybe all of those things are the justifications for the word annoyance.  Without them, we wouldn’t be annoyed.  Every word out there needs to have a personal description, and annoyance is no exception.  Static electricity is just life’s way of saying, “Don’t get too comfortable, we’ve got you surrounded.”

 

 

 

     ZC