Category Archives: thoughts

To the winos and the connoisseurs

But you must already know these things, no?

Then have a little titter at the expense of this neophyte initiate.

When I drink, it’s usually a beer or two (rarely three).

Upon a time, it was good rye whisky-

neat, please, and room temperature.

On Christmas past, someone brought a one and a half litre bottle

of Black Tower Rivaner Rhine wine.

It’s been in my fridge since then, unopened,

until a day or two or three ago.

At which time I felt like a drink.

Not used to wine, I gulped it a bit.

But then, you know,

it left a pleasant afterglow.

And so I sipped,

coating my mouth with the perfume.

Taste buds as erect as chilled nipples,

sprouting new branches.

Such fine detectives.

No need for sudden buzz, now.

Savor.  Lengthen.  Make the glass last.

But alas the glass did pass,

save for a single drop perceived.

Wet the tongue tip just once more.

Fire up the city lights, I pray,

A’fore one last lullaby.

It was a dark and stormy night…

Storms don’t bother him any more.
The rumble and tumble of distant thunder
brings a modest smile to his face,
and one could guess, from his inward look, its peculiar comfort.

In his mind are the blankets of his childhood bed.
Dirty grey and dark inside,
but soft and safe.
Safe with his own private sun.

Muting giants’ voices
perhaps until the morning.

Always there to hide his fearful tears.

Unattainable

I don’t understand your face.
Its beauty is not in my eye,
and I am the beholder.

You are statuesque,
with a long and slender neck.
It permits a gracious tilt of the head
so your excellent nose is in the air,
and you can look down it.

I am sure you must have an uncommon sense of smell,
because your chiseled lips are pursed in distaste
most of the time.

I glance by chance
and you register recognition.
Liking the attention,
then deciding on disdain.

I feign nonchalance
and check the apples for bruises.

We are both liars.

No country for young men

Who knew that it would hurt so much?
That mornings would sometimes feel like death,
its great hand pressing upon his chest?
That giving up would feel like a warm bed.
That going on must be bought with great courage and resolve?
The vernal equinox another slow tick in time.

A youth sees this species,
in rapt fascination, then revulsion.
Bones’ outline propels oversize pants,
held aloft with button-on suspenders.
When was THAT in style?
Hey, why do you have to pay for everything so slowly,
dumping your money on the belt?
Can’t you bring someone with you to bag those groceries?

But, the slow stooped man with suspenders has some happiness today.
The lady at the cash desk.
She’s kind and patient.  Not condescending or patronizing.
She knows what it has taken for him to come here today,
and why he comes alone.

The impatient young man is aware of glances cast his way,
and indeed there are.
Some stand with him, wishing the line to move more quickly.
Others disapprove of his display.
And, maybe one or two have taken a lesson to heart.
The young man turns and goes,
as if he has just remembered something important.

 

 

Disobedience

My body doesn’t understand my brain,
or do I have this backward?

Calcified circuits, perhaps.

Worn out paths.
Easy to go off the rails.

When eating, I bite the inside of my lower lip,
at least once a day.
The cut can’t heal, and it swells a bit,
offering a better target for next time.
Is this a consequence of something,
or a symptom of closet masochism?

Don’t “inhale” your food.
This is good advice which I do not follow.
Surely a symptom.
Storing nuts for the final winter.

I used to keep a long handled brush in the shower.
(For back scrubbing, and the relief of pesky itches.)
It was lost when we moved.
Now, I shower in an alcove of stone.
Hard, undrillable, impenetrable.
But advantageous to one with the itch.
I push up against it, and rub back and forth.
Ah, but what endorphins!
Each day, I stay a little longer.
This very morning, after the steamy session,
my wife said to me
“Why is there blood on your shirt?”

There is an expression, sometimes used to make one shut up.
“I’m going to duct tape your lips.”
For the darker side, you can see it on crime shows.
But I do it for real, every night,
so I won’t get leaks from the air mask.
Doc says “that’s just plain wrong”.
Also, I turn up the pressure.
Cardinal sin, because the sleep doc is supposed to do it
when needed.
But I found out how, and it helps to a degree.

I have never grown up, I think.
They are all ready to give up on me.
Disobedient.

Rites of passage

There was a man who loved his daughter.

Not unusual, but this particular man was not very good at showing emotion, and thought that people would know, by his actions, how he felt.  He knew that this made them needy at times, and he blamed himself for it, but still he could not open up.

There was jealousy within the family because of this, and he bore the stress unto himself, trying to please everyone.

At the age of 15, his girl told him she wanted to be like some of her friends and get a small tattoo, to which he readily agreed.  Not long after that, she wanted to get her tongue pierced, and this caused an uproar. Her mother would have none of it, and pressured him not to consider it, saying he was too soft, and their daughter had him wrapped around her finger.  So, he did tell her no, as firmly as he could muster, and there was much drama and sobbing off and on for a few days.  The subject was soon brought up again, after he thought it had been forgotten.  Seeing the potential of another fight, he spoke to his wife privately, and struck the bargain that if their daughter still wanted this in a year, when she turned 16, he would see about it.  Both thought that she would lose interest by then, and go on to something else.

Indeed, when the time came, he had already put it out of his mind, but his girl’s resolve was strong, and, on the very day of her birthday, she said it was time for him to keep his promise.  Eyeing his wife sheepishly, he said he would look into it, then spoke to friends and acquaintances whose kids had gone for similar things.  Their best advice was to find a place that was government inspected, had an autoclave, and used disposable needles.  He sought advice from an actual government website, and found similar admonitions.  Within a few days, he took her, and the deed was done, not without some squealing on her part and a look of instant regret.  However, she put a brave face on it, and there was relative calm within the house for a time, even though his wife was resentful.

A year later, when it was prom time at the high school, the big kerfuffle was to find his girl a dress.  She was valedictorian, so it needed to be something special.  Off to the city they all went, together with a couple of her friends, and landed at a fancy shopping mall.  Mom & Dad left the trio to their own devices, telling their daughter they would meet back at a certain time, and hopefully she would find something she liked.  He and his wife then wandered about for a while, looking into the windows of some dress shops as they went.  He spotted a formal gown in black, beaded with beautiful silver designs upon it, and said to his wife “That’s the one she’s going to want.”  They walked for a half hour more, and made another circuit of the mall.  Coming to the same shop again, he decided to go in and ask the price.  The saleswoman said “you know, we have someone in here trying one on right now”.  It was $425, and, of course, you know who was trying it on.  While they were there, she came out of the room to look at herself.  Dad saw her first, and looked pleadingly at his wife, who, after seeing this sight, had no choice but to give in.  Their girl was glowing, and her friends gave her some envious looks.

After the prom, she announced to her Dad, when they were home alone, that there was going to be a party at a cottage belonging to one of her friends’ parents.  He gave her something of a cross examination, and, respectfully enough, she told him that there was “probably” going to be booze, and maybe even drugs, there.  For the first time in his life, he gave her a flat “No”.  She pleaded and said that she, of all people, had to show up, and would stay away from that kind of activity.  He believed her, but would not let her go, and she kept testing his resolve.  Something let go within him, and this man who had always kept his thoughts to himself, began to cry silently.

A change came over his little girl, and she crossed the room to him, hugging him tightly.

She said “Dad.  Dad.  You have nothing to worry about ever again from me.  I will not go.”

On his birthday, the card she gave to him said “Dad, I love you because you love me”.
Fifteen years later, he still has it.