Month: February 2026

Things People Never Get Over

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“I’m at the airport.”

A deep fake? They’d talked this past week; she hadn’t mentioned a visit. “Who is this?”

“Don’t you recognize your mother’s voice?”

“Then, when did we last speak?”

“Saturday. Marcy left you and I’m here to help.”

“She’s having a midlife crisis. She just needs…”

“It’s not what she needs, it’s what you need. Pick me up, or I can get a Lyft.”

He’d made peace with his wife’s decision. His mother would give him the advice she wished she’d had when his father left. She wouldn’t notice the salt she was rubbing in his wounds.

The Subject is Words

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An avalanche of words slows. Letters pile to a stop. You sweep them into pages of prose, organize the words in sentences. The sentences describe familiar subjects. The subjects are coupled with tasty verbs that whet the appetite, the filling in a subject-object sandwich. Pair with a fruity adjective to finish.

Thoughts and feelings spring into paragraphs willy-nilly; words leap to the page in disorganized, repetitive chaos. It’s time to wind down and mine for meaning. A pot of gold waits at rainbow’s end. The end of patience, of an era, of the sentence, the end of the line. Edit.

Small Sins; Have Mercy

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Jack couldn’t afford the sensitive toothpaste. Not if he wanted to buy groceries for the kids. His teeth hurt so bad, though.

“Do you want it?” The clerk pointed at the toothpaste in the locked case.

Like it’s diamonds or something. “Let me see it.”

Another customer needed another case unlocked on another aisle.

“Why do you lock everything up?”

“Store policy. Put it back if you don’t want it.”

It might not work. Jack’s stomach rumbled. The guy trusts me. Or doesn’t care. Or sees I need it.

They locked Jack up. But not before he’s brushed his teeth.

Third Eye, Third Way

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My third eye started as a zit in the middle of my forehead. It popped. A stream of foul smelling doom scrolls, news stories, and government edicts covered my face. The mess came off in the shower, but the wound required dressing changes for weeks.

I got wise. A diet of cozy mysteries, poetry, eighteenth century women’s novels, and Buddhist philosophy cleared my mind of junk. Zen koans had a cleansing effect, so much so that I started doing yoga and meditation.

My third eye emerged. My brain contained the cosmos. My food for thought: the restful sounds of mantras.