The Coffee Shop

the coffee shop
it is a forbidden pleasure
to go and hang out
only the elite belong
the professor
his students
the free thinking left
or so the teenager things
dressed all in black
wearing a beret
sitting in the corner
trying to fit in
while sipping at a
blueberry smoothie

Art Show

I can’t do it. They all hate my stuff. I can’t go out there.

They love it. Go out there and talk to them.

It’s wrong, all wrong. My crap doesn’t belong here. I don’t belong here.

Yes you do.

This place is so stuck up. Those stiff suits know that I am just a no talent hack.

You are good. You know what you are doing.

My work doesn’t belong here. This is a Museum. Only “real” art gets put into places like this.

Do you remember when that lady came to look at your work?

Yeah…

What did she say?

She said that she “had” to take one piece for the show.

And?

She could only take one, but she wanted to take three.

She could see your talent. She knew your work belongs here. She broke the rules for it. Now get out there and prove that she was not wrong.

I suppose…

The Other Side of Night

The morning, another wake-up
Envisioned as one of those
Movie montages with rock music
And a girl with a starboard chest
To spend the rest of your life with
She's a fighter, and that's
The best we've got
But no one will ever die
I'll take you from yours
If you take me from mine
We're upstairs with hot coffee standing by
Waking up is as falling asleep
Now start over

Revolutionary Moon

These questions need to be asked
And in due turn an answer would be nice
Meanwhile--it's supper, and shall we
Suppose with our ice tea that that should suffice

And on account of the stars and moon above
The sightly seasons spin as does the earth
And try do we to predict the weather like a fine fit glove
But no we can't, no more, no less--than our screaming birth

Thus, are sure of just a few little things

Such as the green grass and the buzz of pesky house flies

And with age and with that the wrinkle it so quickly brings

But on account of surprise, maybe rationalize and philosophize

However, what else should or could we do...?
Another morning with corn flakes, newspaper and spoon
Another place or time, a radical assault...a coup
Today--the earth crashed into the revolutionary moon!

Transcontinental

You were the best
Damn underwater basket weaver
In the whole desert,
But you took with the camels
And traversed coral caverns
Leaving aqua cacti in sandy wake

Embroidered upon your last sagebrush basket
"Whosoever, no one lives forever"
Amongst trails and tales of blowing desert sand,
It couldn't have been accidental
As watermark ocean waves,
You were transcontinental

Martin & the Mob (of Cliches)

This needs no introduction, for it was all in a day's work, and all things being equal, Martin bit off more than he could chew. It was the moment of truth and the calm before the storm when he told the powers that be, he may be ready to throw in the towel and venture onward.He didn't beat around the bush, or beat a dead horse, but seemed to hit the nail right on the head. He said he understood that the early bird gets the worm, and to the victor the spoils. However, lately bringin' home the bacon in the final analysis seemed a wolf in sheep's clothing. His bosses, the powers that be, said that in no uncertain terms was Martin not to mind his p's and q's. They could proceed by taking it by ear. Then they spoke of Martin's possible facing of the music and a fate worse than death. But he had remained cool as a cucumber and asked if he 'could just get out.' He would keep a low profile. In other words, he didn't want to be in the same boat or between the devil and the deep blue sea.Well, this was easier said than done. The bosses had skeletons in the closet and had to separate the sheep from the goats. They said there was no turnin' over any new leaves and that dear old Martin would bite the bullet and get dead as a door nail. However, Martin was as strong as an ox and as stubborn as a mule. It fell on deaf ears. So it be said, he made no bones about taking a rain check, and as quick as lightning made his way to unchartered seas. Just, that's the way it had to be.

As luck would have it, on the lam he was on the ball. By leaps and bounds he had kept the wool over their eyes. Martin was on the beach and next to his girlfriend, who was fresh as a daisy and free as a bird. As she grabbed her margarita she said, "Martin, you're so true blue." A match made in heaven. So this makes ends meet, and a long story short.

Jumping Buildings

The days of jumping buildings
And colliding and falling into crevasses...

Know now this was coming to a close
No more arbitrary swims or swan-dives
Away with capes, and back again to regular clothes
White-powder lies and sullen half-lives
Red-lights and parking meters
Out of touch the place had new leaders
Really, they did the best they could
Back again, be sometime they would

Idaho

In Idaho
It's fairly simple
There are mountains
Near sky horizons
My dear wife and I
Have a potato farm nearby,
A plow and other tools

Today it rained
We stayed inside
Warm under downy cover
And played some Checkers
Then had dinner
This can be work though
Love and Potato

Last Chance for a Slow Dance

Somehow with you here, and
These taps and twists,
Tips and twirls, a
Mending melting movement collective
Rectifies a dark sky,
Just outside,
A day of coming atom gloom

Let’s take this,
For time is short...
Girl, just like your skirt
For a day outside,
Is coming dark and doom
Our last chance,
For a slow dance
Close...rr…k?...BOOM!!!!

Long Distance Runner

Of green flag days
Long distance runner off
Worn running shoes
Old, Haggard and abused
Functional still
One foot,
Past the other?
He went best

Sad to say,
But the soles,
Such to see,
Had many holes,
Long distance runner
Though swift and fine,
Had no sight of a
Finish line

(The race was with himself)

Boathouse

Long ago of on the salt sea

A boathouse was refuge land
And land was now long down under
So many were sailing; and yet
Some were swimming; for quite some time
Their tears coming into cohesion
With a sea all surrounding
It was said they tried their best
But sad they were
So down they went
Drowning and frowning

On this day, the boathouse empty
Canoes used to be there, floating by string
Many distance swimmer made it past
A cold sea body
To relax, as if their own
They called this here boathouse home
Times end, many dived back deep
Into an aqua earth sea and its long sleep
Ocean sea, then took its salt
From the earth's many years
Ocean sea stole human tears

Eleven

The cute redhead of no more than 24 years of age walked up to the man in the vest and whispered something delicately into his ear. The grace in which she moved matched the sexy, mysterious professionalism in which she so provocatively yet so conservatively dressed. The clerk shyed away and to the adjacent voyeurs watching so intently it was obvious she was out of his league, and he knew he wasn't a slugger. The voyeurs knew as well, and in that instant of time, each knew the other knew just as well. What he knew that no one else knew, was what this ball of fire was passionately whispering in his ear. After the first-tense minute, he the clerk seemed to ease up as her quiet musings poured out...and became less robotic in his body language. She sat down and he took off her shoes and measured them with one of those metal things. He thought her feet were akin to cotton candy symphony spun by Nordic elves. He looked up at her, and she asked with a half-smile,
"What size do you wear?" as if mischievously trying to gather dandelions.
"Eleven...why?"
She smiled slyly as she brought her hand to her lip, "I don't know...just curious."
"Oh," he added, "It hangs to the left."

Distal

Thank-you for dining locally
Albeit by yourself, you're not lonely?
On your fine knitted sleeve
Is a safe logical reprieve

Outside it's raining and you're waiting for your ride

The water washes, but doesn't affect your resistance to abide

The umbrella you hold high trying to stay dry
'Cause something up there really knows you in the sky

You arrive home and put on the stove
Pour a glass of wine fresh from the grove
And home an hour, you have yet to change
As you like it, they're out of range

Tomorrow, things much the same
Really, you've no one else to blame
The opposite of the ocean
A lack of common commotion

Mr. Balmer

When this person is born

What will I be doing?

Where will I happen to be?

Hopefully, he is praised and state licensed

And no, I could never know

And so, I will go on with the day

To live a glorious life

Full of sunshine, empty of strife?

Right next to a trophy wife?

And obedient children that pray

From me to the little ones...

It's circus circularity

As the little hand follows the big,

As with the clocks upon our walls

And its long arms pointed

Coming 'round

Cummin' around

With that, it then strikes down

If lucky, I'll have some calm...

As then, that person will so embalm

(We had met before, but only he knows that)

North Cinquain

Snow days
Things are buried
And you are way out there
And there is so much more between
Snow daze

Of These Shapes (And Things)

Square pushed his shades up
Moved on best he could
Circle's news, again, had
Gotten the best of him
She went around and around,
She did, with the other
And Square just didn't know
How much more...

So Square made his way
To friend Rectangle's
It was slow going, as this
Stung deep, and dark, as if the bottom of
His stomach gave way and fell out
Smashing and bashing concrete while still connected
To his central nervous system dragging remnants
All along the way

Square and Rectangle then sat,
Going over angle and aperature
Square sometimes playing a dark scenario out
In his head, for he thought of The Octagon
Or shall he just go to his bed, as Rectangle
Continued with postulates, Square, he did
He called, the proof was just too deep to solve
To make circle straight, and open the triangle wide

Well, The Octagon obliged (bang?)
And, Square rolled on...

Used Car Repair

Sometimes you take it apart
And sometimes you put it together
No matter what, it seems a little of both
At first, try one thing, although
You may find it's not the right thing
So look around, and try something else
Best to consult sources, and bring a rag
It at times can be pretty messy
Have forebearance, as with rust
And time, things go on unplanned
You can't get rid of all the squeaks
But try your best
To keep fluids at healthy levels
Attend to rearview mirror
To better move forward when operating

What You Will

Today
Is the first day
Of the rest of my
Wife's.

Give exception
Second best something
The other took a left
Sharp corners of Hart and 1st.

And so if the son succeeds
The father succeeds
Or the other way around
And 'round.

"Hi ya boss, great, really me too!"
(What an asshole...get outta here)
"Good...wonderful...glad to hear it!!"
(I'm a fake asshole too).

Escaping...
Yet, tryin' to get back home
A big wishing well spill
I was told it's what you will.

Old Man

They're the people old man Smith used to know
Pull a chair on the porch for a brazen blow-by-blow
A smell of perfume or sound of certain song
Can knock Smith far back many year though

With that guy he used to bike the Boardwalk that year then
And sad to say, the way it went, he would not have chosen
Fitting and suture, the guy had gone into doing med back-surgery
To Smith's face he really was nice, behind it so frost and frozen

After that there was her, and with that came glazing glow
Smith's sister was her brother's sometimes so-and-so
What she was up to now he really had no idea
Perhaps deserved, she left Smith and love cold as snow

Old man Smith did not think he'd know any of them forever
Because money or some silly thing it was due sever
People he used to know, most eventually went on their own
The way it went he couldn't have predicted, no, no not never

Short Fix

Hero and heroine
In vain
Hero and heroin
In vein.

The .250 Man

"Mike, would you please...put the bat...DOWN!!! Mike? Alright great...great jersey...wonderful, now we need to talk. And I need you to listen, MIKE!!! Would you please PLEASE listen to me, you've got plenty of time to get to the game...Mike?!"
"Eh...Yeah?"
"You know...you...?"
"JESUS...you know I need to get to the game...I...just...ya know...this slump...I really don't need this shit...I'm under enough pressure...goin' on the road and all that..."
She looked up from picking at her fingers, "honey...?"
"I am in a slump...ya know?"
"Honey!"
"WHAT...I can't hit the FUCKING BALL!"
"That is not what I'm talking about at all."
"Well, what are you talkin' about?"
"Mike, you're gonna be goin' away, but does it really matter anyway...? I mean, you're so damn distant, you just...inside...keep it...I'm not going to judge you...maybe our problems..."
"That has nothing to do with it...I can't hit the fucking ball, see there are balls.... and there are strikes...I can't hit either fuckin' one...okay...OKAY...I mean...!?"
She interjected, "What I'm saying is...YOU AND ME...I mean, you're stronger than that...the slump?...Now Mike," she reached over pausing passionately as she clutched his shoulder, "I'm sorry I yelled." She kissed him softly...gently on his lips, “You know I love you...and you know you'll get through this...just...."
He turned his head as she whispered so only he would ever hear, in the slightest whisper, "just take it out on the ball...just...hit it far, way out there... okay?"
"Yeah."

Miss Tennis

Let's play
Just you and I miss
Serve your eyes across the net
I'll send mine back softly
Floating,
When these racquets sway
A court glossy green
Buoyant ball, seldom far
Not hit too hard
Points scored
Tie us
Here we go,
'Love' serving 'Love'

How Am I Not Myself?

When something like this happens
I'm inherently a small boy with a hairy chest
Alarmed and unsure, I lash out (subliminally & subversively)
To protect from schoolyard bullies
(Except I already have one of my own, he's nine)
But in a way, I don't really mean it

Sometimes I feel a little left out
Because these people are just a little weird
(It's definitely not me, they have a tribal mentality)
I pretend like I don't care and
Have a silent gavel to stow it
Action from apathy, I just get up and leave

Somewhere, it is distant, from my past
Well, it criss-crossed something else, and arose
I tried to hide, or at least change the subject
(It was just a little secret)
To save a shave of shame, I lied
(I don't like standing in corners)

Somewhat a conflict over conversation
Jabs and words were spread and stabbed
I think and say one, yet feel another
For some reason of which even I'm unaware,
Really I must stand my ground
(I got her back, now it's even, or am I behind?)

Drunken Airmanship

Take one exception
And just get up and go
Leave the terminal and
Further vacation
By just adding drinks
With crazy air take-offs
And mid-sky connecting flights
Fast to exotic sites
High above far away
Foes and daily draining woes
With shiny silky crystal sand
Start a new land

Personal 82

Hello
I want a man to love
Who is willing to share life
In its deepest reaches
Forms, in actions...fun, intimacy
Joys and concerns
I like to swim in pools
Canoe, boat, um...hike snowshoe and walk
Dance, discuss social issues...politics?
I like to problem solve
And am willing to learn...
Looking for a like-minded person
Who is rare and who has found it difficult...
So far, to find, the right
Personal

Someone Smoked a Joint

We partook in smoking a joint
Out the window said, 'what the point?'
He got excited, and wanted to have some fun
And loaded the chamber of that gun
People ran from here to there
Really, it was more than for us to bear
He had done these both, just right
Later, some would wonder how they left his sight

Dazzled and dizzied, things fell all around
Things stopped, and people here hit the ground
It bounced about, these scary screams
And was more than this and all it seems
For it could be crazy, and this, today
At least, he was not lazy
It was said it was smoke and mirrors
And better than many and all those beers

Really, it wasn't the joint at all--
He had just come from valley mall

A picture is worth 465 words ( Tijuana, baby!!!)

We had sipped plenty of margaritas, and walked plenty more miles in search of a hotel. We (my friend Justin and I) finally found one in Rosarito, Baja California, Mexico.

We had walked across the border and through Tijuana to a bus, and then commenced in taking it there. However, once in Rosarito it proved difficult in finding a hotel. We walked around curiously trying to make heads or tails of this new place, while wondering how many more times it would take us to learn that this is what happens when procrastination occurs. We must have walked 10-12 miles that day, and it was HOT. We were almost resigned to sleepin' on the beach, when we found one in our price range (it was spring break, so prices were way up, and we had to go off the beaten path to get away from cardboard cut-out spring breakers and higher prices). It was $40 U.S., with a $2 deposit (we thought that to be strangely disproportional, and odd enough even so). Then we got some beer and scoped out the beach and the surrounding streets. One of the biggest worries was the crazy dogs running around chaotically, as if gringos were not allowed. A couple times they swiped and got Justin's pant leg, but all was fine from that stand point, and most others now that I come to think about it.

Most the night we spent soaking up the sights and stopping at various bars. One in particular we had quite a few weak margaritas at, while resting our road-weary, stinky feet. We actually checked out the spring break area for awhile. It was pretty crazy, quite the party would be an understatement...G-Unit and Busta Rhymes were there performing somewhere amongst dancing bodies and ziggy swaggering lines. However, I couldn't help but think how something was screwed up, because across the street, people who didn't have a pot to piss in tried their best to sell Chicklets or homemade necklaces. Downtrodden, in some cases, was a compliment. It was fifty some dollars cover charge to get into these bars, and they were packed. Across the street, handicapped mothers and willful children pleaded for fifty cents. If I was so concerned why didn't I chew gum versus sipping margaritas?

On the way back we took in as much of the sights in Tijuana as we could. We were worn, as we were crossing a dry riverbed, we witnessed some of Tijuana's finest (coppers) throwing bottles and rocks at a homeless elderly man. Then they stole his bike and zoomed off just as I took this shot. The dog had been there when we went in. And it was there when we left. Most of us really do not know how good we got it.

Red & Blue

Red and Blue
hanging upon the wall
illuminating the seedy night below

why were red and blue chosen
above all others
was it passion
or just apathy

please tell me red
why you were selected
was it because you were full of fire
or that you fit in so well
with your red light district stigma
Satan and Communists
maybe because you were cheap
like a K-mart red light special

what about blue
why were you chosen
because you were cool like ice
keeping things level and contained
with the boys in blue
or was it simply because
red could not be seen without
the video game accomplice of blue

what ever the reason
which may never be known
it is sure to be a good one

I salute you
colored lights upon the wall
with every drink of beer
that I will have tonight

Ballad of the Right-Fielder

A sportscar goes pretty fast
And circulatory blood too
To arrive at a new ballpark
And find it's the same old field

Tarps were not yet put on
When it all came pouring down
For who's the ump in charge?
The whole thing's a muddy mess

But take to right-field
With the rest of your team
And wait for the ball
And a ubiquitous ump's call

So three were up
And three went back down
As these bases,
This game goes round and round

And after seven others had batted
A curious step to the plate
Tale told it was a mighty wield
Inches away, back to right-field

A Day in May

Above ground and green grass
A strong tall tree stood
Root kept it braced for yet another day
And branches stretched to meet wind's sway

The birds and squirrels played
Amongst leaves and sunny gleam
And with their nuts and berries it was heard
A boy and girl on a blanket just below

Then the squirrels and birds so stopped
And the strong tall tree still stood
On this bright day in early May
She said, "I'm sorry, I just don't feel that way."

Well Lit

Beneath sky and birds' sway, the many windows of the upper-class house let light in. In fact, the house was always well lit. Sandra was tired of the house and its command of her time to complete her daily duties. Between the meals and the perpetual mess the Smith kids left, she was losing herself. The bright white light sent downward through the windows served as to encapsulate her, or so it'd seemed. Lately, she just pulled the blinds in her room, lying in bed, trying to grasp on to some sort of semblance. There in the dark, Sandra found comfort from the yelling and crying. For in the dark came her dreams and a better past now gone.


She lived here, but had no stake or claim to ownership. Consequently, decisions obviously, were left to Mr. and Mrs. Smith, and sometimes, even the little Smiths. Material wasn't her thing anyhow. She had a few things. But they were small. A little notebook and some pictures would occupy most of her free time, maps and letters that never would be sent the rest of it. She would look at the maps of far away places, planning her many trips as her eyes traversed major mountain ranges and canyons. They had seen many miles, and they were now tired.

She looked over at the sink and its dirty white china stacked about the forks and cutting board. The dryer had stopped and it had gotten quieter, albeit the parrot in the adjacent family room. Another day's light pricked with her thoughts, as she sighed and made her way over to the dishes. At least the dish soap was quite effective. If she finished early she could write her brother a letter. However, she thought, what new would there really be to talk about…nothing new had really happened. She closed the window above the sink as she began the washing. At least nothing that could be described in a letter. Yep, sometimes she thought, a lot of things are better told in person. As she continued scrubbing, she thought how great it would've been if she could've done the same for her heart. Take it out and with the sponge, scrub the dirt away and wipe it clean. Sandra's beat most surely would've improved. Suffice it to say, after this it was the laundry, cleaning the squawking parrot's cage, and vacuuming. What sometimes kept her going was the notion of visiting her brother and getting out of there and away from these things.

One of these instances was last year when she'd visited her brother in his modest flat in the dry heat. Down the road was a place where three Elvae were not seen as abnormal. While there she picked up some ideas hearing them converse as they sat at a dimly-lit Vegas bar drinking whiskey and clutching their guitars. She had aimed her ear, just to hear, as she eyed people exchanging cash near the pool tables. It was as if she could see the smoke waft into the sound waves creating some kind of cohesive idea in her head. Maybe she had one too many.
“Can I get ya ‘nother miss?” asked the barkeep.
Sandra tipped the bottle, and the barkeep, listening contently still.
“In a few…sir,” replied Sandra.
Soon her brother had come out of the rest room and ordered her another drink, but she had gotten the general idea. They sat sipping the drinks with really not much to say to one another. Not that they didn’t have anything to say, but they would bear it at home away from the crowd. She had a picture of her brother in this bar, his half-smile front and center to that slight collage of a memory all around. He was really all she had. Sandra figured such the same in reverse. It served as a reminder, and as more than just one. She kept it on the mirror on top of her oak dresser, supplied by the Smiths.


Not that the Smiths had really done anything wrong at all. Or maybe that's how Mr. Smith saw it, because his wife surely didn't know. To Sandra, the birds and the feathers, yeah, they went together. She wouldn't take another trip into that room again with the staunch piercing light, the straps, and the video device. She did her best to block it from her mind. And it was just by accident, that the poster of the Nile was placed on her wall. However, things were coming to the surface, and it wasn't working anymore.

She had finished her chores and stood before the mirror and her picture. She lit a candle and watched the oncoming light battle the dark in her room. The family was sleeping, and it was starting to get late. She was ready to get out of this place, and had her bag already prepared for going. She blew out the candle and grabbed the rest of her things, including the matches and made her way downstairs. She scavenged the living room for any possible details she may have been leaving behind. Then Sandra looked at the photos on the wall, as if she’d potentially change her mind. She took one last look around which seemed to take her through a series of emotional aurora borealis as her face looked of a crossword puzzle.

As she went out the door taking a glance around, she knew first a bus to her brother's was in order. After that she really didn't know. The only sounds were but joints cracking on her petite-frame as Sandra set down her bag and the tin can. She then went back in and grabbed the parrot from its cage and let him fly off into the night. What a shame she thought to put a parrot like that in such a small cage, or any cage for that matter. She struck and dropped the match, and made her way down the front porch. It was her way of saying goodbye.
In fact, the house was always well lit.

We Met Once

We met once
On a chilly beach
On the ocean
It was a chance encounter
One in a million
But that was a long time ago
On an island
Two time zones that way
We may never see each other again
But we still chat…
And do

Back Door

It’s bar time, time to get out
I feel fine, I feel great.
Uneasily I stand and make for the door
Slowly, one foot, then the other
In the distance my car looms
Speaking to me, telling me,
“Don’t drive home, stay the night”
Heading the warning I approach.
The back roads are safe
A roar and a howl took me along
Racing for home like a kid after curfew
Trying to sneak in the back door
With a flick of a switch lights flashed on
Victoria was waiting, on the couch, by the door…

Empty Husk

On the corner of third and main
Her empty husk did lie
No thoughts, no feelings
Not even regret
Nothingness where pain should be
Naked to the world
Her skeleton exposed
Empty on the inside
With no shame

A Passive Afternoon in Aggressive Romance

Pat, 29, is at his home in the living room that he shares with his girlfriend, Hannah, 27. It is a modest townhouse, decorated of Hannah's sunflower themes. Even she wonders if she is overboard on the sunflower things, but it started out simple, and so to speak, bloomed. Damn, was she turning into her mother...the next level being antiques. On a day recently, the couple had these things to say...

Pat: “I have things that …Hannah?...I need to do get done today.”

Hannah: “Huh? Anyway, this new boss we got at work is a real…”

Pat: “Yo, sunflower, did you hear me? I said I got some stuff I gotta do today, hun hun”

Hannah: “…And I was totally minding my own business and he comes up and says…”

Pat: “Hannah! Did you hear me…?!”

Hannah: “Jesus…fine, I won’t talk at all…I mean half the damn time I feel I’m talking to the wall anyway!”

Pat: “Must I really listen to a sentence like that…I mean, ‘fine I won’t talk at all'…C’mon…again, I’m just saying I gotta go out for awhile…There’s no need for…just show me some sun, baby...”

Hannah: “I’m sorry…(as she walks over and wraps her rays around him her face is inches away from his) It’s just you worked all week and I worked all week and I thought we could just stay in…use the blender and drink some margaritas…watch a movie and be bums or buddies...both.”

Pat: “We can…It’s only Friday and I shouldn’t even be gone that long anyway, I mean I wish I could just stay in too, but for me that’s not in the cards today.”

Hannah: “Can’t we talk with the dealer…get a new hand? I’ll make it worth your while?”

Pat: "And just how will you do that missy kitty?"

Hannah: "The way you like it and then a good flick...um...and a little later the way I like it too."

Pat and Hannah have been together for going on three years, and Hannah is waiting for some kind of ring, while Pat wants to do just that, but is unsure of exactly how. Some would say Pat is your standard indecisive guy at a crossroads in his life cascading slowly towards thirty. Hannah, is none too subtle in dropping hints, and Pat is a pro at deflection, as he just talks then of animals. He has found that beyond socialization, every girl is hard-wired biologically for either animals or little, cute babies. He tells his friends and colleagues of his theory. Luckily for Pat, right now anyway, Hannah is an animal nut. His friends joke with him and try to debunk his theory by simply asking about all the "damn sunflower things."

Hannah: “So, what’s my big tall strong man gotta do with all that time? It must be pretty important if you you’re givin’ up (Exaggerated voice) precious time with sweet little me. I mean I ain’t just any old regular little princess, dear.”

Pat: “Yeah, I know.”

H: “Hey mister, what’s that supposed to mean?”

P: I don’t know, what did you mean?”

H: “I’m just flirting with you, I mean flirting can be an end in its self, don’t ya think? And if you’re back too late at least I got to have my teasin’ with ya…and you know I don’t have a bloated sense of myself like that…you know that.”

P: “Yeah I know…we’ve actually discussed…”

H: “Yeah, we both know where our respective self-esteems stand…you can be so, I don’t know, like what he said…that Teddy Roosevelt or someone like...”

P: “What? What in the hell does that mean?! Ted... ”

H: “Speak softly but carry a big stick, know what I mean, like he said…”

P: “Yeah I know…that’s…” ( smug smile).

H: “No, no, NO…That’s not what I mean; you can be so passive-aggressive, that’s what I mean, so man’s man with your whiskey and all that. I think you’re kind of swishy… I, darling do, what do ya think of that…huh?”

P: “Where the hell did you even come up with that…I mean…Teddy Roosevelt and..?!…as we get older I wish you would stop using those dime-store phrases. That can be so embarrassing when you throw one of those out…right… when we’re in public?”
H: “Ohhh…just settle….settle down, you haven't heard that before?”

P: “Woman you can be so silly…no, I guess not”

H: “I read it in that quotation book that came with the thesaurus and dictionary set. There are some good ones in there.”

P: “…And you can drive me so nuts…sometimes.”

H: “Do I?”

P: “Yes, miss…come here…”

H: “I hope that’s a good thing?”

P: “Depends.”

H: “On?”

P: “On…On? On the dealer!”

H: “Oh, stop it with that whole card thing…”

P: “Sure, if you stop bein’…Ahhhh, presidential.”

H: “Okay…I just hope you get home soon, putty puh-leez” (Whisper) “K…”

P: “So, is that your big stick then...right there...'putty puh-leez' "(mockingly).

H: “Pat…c'mon”

P: “Yeah..k...sorry?”

H: “What do you gotta do?”

Pat locks the door to his residence and walks down the hall, and then outside into the light. Pat drives off and parks at his friend Sam’s house. He gets out and goes in.

Pat: “So, hey, what’s up?”

Sam: “Took ya long enough, busy with that woman of yours?”

Pat: “No, not really…I mean you know how it is…I had to work and yeah, I spent some time with Hannah.”

Sam: “Yeah, I bet! I bet double I would puke if I heard you in your quiet tender moments…Puttin’ words that don’t belong with sugar and sweet and all that spazzy lingo jambo stuff.”

P: “The older ya get, the more you section yourself off. Sometimes it gets so smothering, but yet in a way, I need it, or I get comfortable with it…something. But, I can pretty much do what I want when I want.”

S: “Yeah…sure... that’s why you’re late…comfortable?”

P: “No, I told her from the very first date, I ain’t the type of guy that goes and gets all whooped up and back around…no, not me, not this guy.”

S: “Sure…enough… really your relationship is not much of a priority…, I just was waiting and I coulda picked up some damn cat food or something. Don’t worry about it; I’m just givin’ ya a little shit. It just seems sometimes you give me excuses vicariously through Hannah’s guilting of you…or at least you’ve talked ‘bout that before…last year after my birthday…”

P: “Well, what do you do with all your time?...And I do what I want when I want, Hannah's...”

S: “Yeah, Hannah's subtle...and all I have is all the time. What I don’t have is what to do with it. I date…but it’s easier to break dates than keep them and takes up less time, I guess you could say I like my time.”

P: “Maybe if you didn’t date all those younger girls, I mean what do you guys talk about? What do you have in common? I would pull my hair out.”

S: “You should think about pullin’ somethin’…”

P: “Like Playdoh in your hand, but…”

S: “…Else out…dude, you don’t get it…”

P: “How long can that…?”

S: “Don’t underestimate ‘em.”

P: “…amuse you?”

S: “Plenty…long enough…they need father figures…”

P: “I would like to think it’s the other way around…anyway, I’m sure there are pluses and minuses…and you’re not hurtin’ anyone.”

S: That’s right…They are the ones that always want to hang out.”

P: “And you say I'm the master of over-rationalization, yeah, um, where's the beer?”

S: “No, you're the excuse king...either it's money, or you're tired, or you...I don't know...I don't know, but it gets old, and sometimes I wonder why bother...maybe it's that hint of narcissism...

P: "Dude, no...I..."

S: "Oh, here we go, another one...anyway, whatever...are you still on that only smoke when you drink thing?"

P: “No, that didn’t really work out. I ended up drinking more just so I could smoke. For awhile there, I was becoming a big drinker. Just so I could smoke...that's...”

S: “Ludicrous…that was insane, I told you that was insane and would never work”

P: “No, I’m done with the cigarettes …for now.”

S: “Well, pour yourself a drink, and stay away from those damn things”

P: “You?”

S: “Yeah, but we should get going.”

P: “Yeah, we should…I told Hannah I wouldn’t be that long.”

I am Mentally Exhausted

work, school, school, work
leaves time for myself
always on the go
never a moment to think
mind always racing
no time for sleep
sleep is for the weak
been going strong for months
full day of work
full day of school
all in the same day

Now, here I am
With a spare free moment
Blank computer screen in front of me
Unable to write
I am mentally exhausted