Father's Day

Cake nowhere to be found
That's not really it at all
The calendar says this is so, though
Odd posture, weird coaster, hard hand-shake?
Dogs yet asleep, seein' sheep
So be said, cotton's warm

We're doin' the best we can
Along the way, the manual,.
Well, that's not really needed
We're grown strong men
How 'bout that weather?
 So... it's been awhile?
Lawyerspeak, where's my file?

Bake Shop Baby

‘X’ Marks the spot
Right on the dot
Arms grasping not to let go
And only you know
The sound of sharpening knives
And the slicing deftly and so swiftly

Smells of sweat and toil
And clattering of pans and bunches of foil
Vagrants through the window and on the sidewalks
Chatter loudly and loosely with engines of cars passing by

Of melted butter and margarine
Your silken skin
Cold to the touch

With rhythmic breathing
A carefully knitted tank-top
Meets smooth conditioned hair
With coarse blue jeans you have flair
From out there, smell of whisky wafting in
And blending with the yeast...
Too busy, you couldn’t care the least

A single tossle of your hair
Sets the timer ringer buzzing
Back to work
With slams of clattering doors
And textures of dough and fleeting flours
Falling to unsightly, chaotic floors
Awhile ago, a different job, a different time

Like dough to bread
You moved on
Wandered, then vastly fled

Outside, a vagrant collapsed
Sounds of glass breaking
And smells of expelled acids
Oh well, your hair glitters in the light
Like smiling stars in the night
Customers come and go
With shouts, chatters and laughs

Sometimes the bread doesn't turn out just right
So the door shuts with – -‘Bah-Ding’
It can be quite a shuttering ring

A day in the life of a rising bakery
Budding and blossoming
Most prominent: French and Rye
So, prep for the next day
Vagrants left
And all is put away
It’s time to go
A look outside
test reside
The gleam of fast cars whizzing by...
Cross your heart, hope not to die