If you invited me inside
and put your trust in me
upon that trust I would abide
a friend to you I’d be

If I invited you inside
and chanced to let you see
emotions that I try to hide
would you confide in me?

we both have had a broken trust
and cautious we have been
we circle each and feel we must
keep distance in between

but now I feel the leap of love
and wonder if you do
your spirit fits me like a glove
my heart is beating too

to bed I went,
brooding on first world problems.
marked for a lesson.

all stumpy I awoke
there was no pain
I had no hands
I had no feet

the sutures had healed over
the skin was smooth and beige

I swelled inside
fear bursting through my ears and eyes

I went to cry out
it is learned!  Have mercy!
but there was too much space in my mouth

I had not a tongue

the sutures had healed over
and the skin was smooth and pink.

It was nothing, really.
Some moments of playful affection.
A friendship understood, without words.
People looking, but we didn’t see.

You sat down table from me in the cafeteria.
I was talking to others,
but you flicked popcorn at me
every thirty seconds.
I played dumb, then pretended aggravation.
When the break buzzer rang,
I passed behind you,
grabbed your bowl,
and dumped it on your head.

You made me feel young again.
Desirable again.
In the thick of things.

Why did you do this,
and then walk away?
Walk away.

Hah….I must be your conquest of the day.
Yeah. That’s it.

I think you might just grow up to be
a crazy old cat lady,
because of the way you toy.

But, God, I miss it.
And I hope you stick around
so we can entertain each other.

we play Ouija
us dumbasses
it’s a teen night at the manor
the protective parents trusted us
when they wanted to have some fun of their own

you know the drill
just like in the movies
we all join hands around the table
the lights dimmed for atmosphere
slightly drunk, slightly high
giggling at this silly séance
to hide the niggling nervousness

our free hands rest on the pointer
we ask some nutbar questions
the thing begins to move furiously
spelling out gibberish answers
we accuse one another of moving the disc
when, all at once,

a boom and a bellow from the basement

YOU RANG?

the cellar door bangs open
and there’s a harsh croaking laugh from the bottom of the steps
our piefaced smiles are gone, and we stare

COME NOW!

in mechanical unison, we stand
we turn toward the bleak staircase
and, nervous marionettes,
we file, on stilted legs,
downstairs to the calling thing

it is small, maybe two feet,
hunched over like an old man
we cannot see a face
nothing to be afraid of, eh?
but, we get smaller, smaller
like Alice who took the wrong pill

now he is huge
unfolding leathery wings as he straightens up
showing a lascivious leer
licorice-lipped with teeth of black
eyes full of flies
golden wings dripping crimson droplets
that spit into nothingness when they reach the floor

GOLD, OR SOULS!

We are stiff in the silence
as he points to each of us
with those crawling eyes

there’s a popping noise,
and little Beckie’s tooth plinks off the concrete
into his greasy claw
and, released, she collapses to the floor,
having given gold

my sister is next
she is spun around and walks straight-backed
up the stairs
then floats back down, somnambulistic,
bearing Mom and Dad’s Anniversary clock,
gold plated under glass
a plaintive moan escapes her
as she places it at the demon’s feet

its licorice grin widens
as it snaps its ghoulish head towards me

what have I?
what have I?
WHAT HAVE I?

in the blinding light of eight in the morning
I wake
spitting feathers from my mouth
and quieting my rancid heart.

slanted shadows straining through fence slats
the last claws of winter
come to take back their snowfields

the steady trickle of the great melt

a stumbling fly blunders onto my windshield
as I sit eating fries at McDonalds
supplanted by the scavenging seagull
who watches me carefully
hand to mouth, hand to mouth
I save one big fry for him, but too late
he flies away disgustedly
I call out the window “Jonathan!”
no answer, so I eat the fry

I walk through the sad streets
no budding beauty yet
gutters lined with November’s remnants
flattened paper cups and bags and cans

in the heatwave of 7 degrees Celsius
smells of spring their aromas bring
the backyard carpet of fermented leaves you thought you had raked
the sick fruity smell of pickled dog dew
the shoe sucking mud
a compost of roots and grass and bugs and worms
just waiting to push up those hyacinth bulbs
if the eager squirrels don’t get them first
the black stew leaching from your eavestroughs

the final deluge on the dirty grey banks of snow
as the furious sump pump overheats in the basement

all of this miasma of rot
from which comes our most glorious time of the year

My naivety is showing.
Ever since the advent of the full-throttle internet there’s been a temptation, before buying goods and services, to be smart about it by seeking out the myriad reviews, whether it be on Google, Facebook, Amazon, or the company’s actual website.

Such a minefield this is to navigate.  It does not take long to realize the dichotomy of comments, ranging from gushing praise to outright disdain.  On balance, you are no further ahead than if you had played your own game of eenie meenie miney moe.
Of course, you can choose to believe whatever you want, but you could have done that at the beginning, right?

Just this morning, I was looking up the website of a hospital at which I had an appointment, and was surprised to find a section of reviews thereon.  Some saying it was the worst place they had ever visited, and others recommending it highly.  I was only looking for their phone number.

I suppose you have to give the business in question the benefit of the doubt, and give them a nod on the positive side if they have the confidence to allow an uncensored forum on their product or service.

Then, there is what I like to call the Facebook Army.  A couple of days ago, I joined a group that had bulletins about housing available in my surrounding area.  I posted a well intentioned ad which stated simply that I was looking for something to rent for two seniors.  I gave a price, and asked people to message me if they had anything.  Instead, what I got was ridicule for being naïve enough to think I could find something at that price, and then an interesting series of about fifty comments from people arguing about the merits of renting, why the prices were so sky high, whether landlords were ripping people off, etc. etc.  There were about two helpful comments in the whole blurb.  Some of the people were downright and unnecessarily nasty to each other, and I just kind of backed out of the discussion, saying “maybe I’ll just buy instead”.

Lastly, there is the partisan company website that posts only glowing reviews. They could be actual testimonials, or they could be carefully crafted.  The cynic in me tends to believe the latter.

In the end, one must rely on his own judgement, or try to get testimonials from a trusted friend.  Every day, I am less inclined to even open up the comments section.  With the anonymity that the internet brings, many of us are prone to publish things that we might never say in person.

By the way, if you want my opinion on a product or service, I’ll happy to help (not).

 

In my little corner of the world, the wife and I have recently made the decision to sell our “empty nest” home and downsize.  Or maybe just take the money and run.  So, I have been putting out feelers to look for places to rent around town, reasoning that instead of buying again we could use our windfall to pay for our retirement and maybe take a nice long holiday.  After all, we’re getting long in the tooth and short on enjoyment.

Through social media and marketplace type websites, I put out the word.  About a half hour after my last keystroke, I got a text  from someone who asked me where I was wanting to rent, even though I had taken pains to say so in my ads.  So I reiterated, and he said he had a house “just around the corner” from me that I could rent for a ridiculously low figure, and that he would pay for utilities as well.  He said I sounded like a really good and honest guy and the two of us would make great tenants while he moved down to the States to be with his sick parents.  He didn’t care about the money, and that’s why the rent was so low.  He just wanted some good people to look after his house.  As a matter of fact, I could have the keys tomorrow!  All I had to do was send him a money transfer for first month’s rent and then he would FedEx me the keys!  I could not believe my good fortune.

He then sent me some luscious pictures of the inside of a seemingly empty brand new house, and now I was really salivating.  Of course, one of the tipoffs was that his text said the place was furnished.  I told him politely where to go.

Same guy texted me again today, with same message, so I decided to play dumb when he asked where I wanted to rent.  I told him a completely different town, and guess what, he had a house right around the corner from where I wanted to live.  I asked him to send me pictures, and they looked mighty familiar.

So, I archived all of these text conversations and I am talking to a constable about it.
Fun and games.