Clancy Hits It Home

Clancy struck out for the third time. He was distraught. The love of his life had left with the ballboy that morning. He hadn’t seen it coming. Like that ball he’d missed by just a hair.

“A hair,” his coach said. “More like a country mile. Go get your eyes examined.”

Clancy made an appointment. The optometrist told him that with his vision it was a miracle he’d ever hit a ball. She also made the observation that his girlfriend needed glasses. And she said yes when he asked her out for dinner. He only hit home runs after that.

The Oddest Things Happen When Mrs. Potts Takes a Walk.

Photo by Bilal Furkan KOu015eAR on Pexels.com

Trees gather like a fairy ring around a fallen trunk.
Elephants gather to mourn their dead.
They trumpet the loss.
They stay for long enough that the sky
Turns color on multiple days.

Mrs. Potts changes the color 
Of her dress from brown to blue to black.
She walks the neighborhood
To distract herself. She nods hello.
She makes everyone feel safe.

Mrs. Potts firmly says, “I do not believe in fairies.
Elves, yes.” Elves clean her kitchen at night.
They almost never sleep.
Like Mrs. Potts herself, they are creatures of habit.
They gather by fallen trees, like elephants.

A Tree Shining on the Hill

“This tree will be removed due to oak root fungus. Direct comments to…” Unprepared, for the posted notice, her heart stopped.

After Dave passed on, she’d sat under the canopy of the live oak, its small stiff leaves immune to drought. Their tree, his, hers. She watched chickadees play. So much time had elapsed since they first met on that hill.

The tree stayed the same. It had reached maturity, or maybe it was so large that a few inches of growth didn’t register. Timeless, it had seemed destined to watch over the bay for all eternity. Nothing lasts forever.

The Dark Reign of Winter

Stride, stride, stride in rhythm, thunder, lightning, falling rain.
Sky dark bursts of water, soggy, wet, boggy, cold
Slow, slow, slow on reaching shelter, comfort, hearth and home
Build a fire, light it quick, make a pyre, a righteous pile
Of all that grieves, grieves, grieves a dark heart,
A burdened heart, weighed with sorrows, like bombs exploding
In black bursts of regret, regret, regret no solace yet.
Slowly warmth creeps through the air, beauty erupts in licks of varicolored flame.
Familiar objects tug, tug, tug at memory,
Filled with thoughts of times past when life was ours, and freedom.

Three AM Thoughts After Listening to a Zoom Featuring Robert Haas

Photo by Anton Klyuchnikov on Pexels.com

We met on the mountain at the halfway point between up and down. 
Hard-packed dirt bordered by scrappy shrubs 
and occasional candy wrappers, 
the path slid into loose gravel,
washboard erosion.
We braced, slowed, stopped. 
We stood face to face, more honest than when we fought,
voices raised in anger at slights so minor as to be unmemorable. 
We embraced, we wept, we sat on a boulder 
looked out on the sea, 
its azure blue, green, purple depths 
roiling, settling, welling up.
We wavered, pulled by the gravity of the moon and the earth.
We hovered between earth and sky.

Trust Your First Guess

“A tenner on Marmalade.”

The guy with the eyeshades burped. It was a disparaging burp. “You’d bet on an orange horse. Take my advice. Save your money.”

“Well what would you advise?” The lady, or maybe she was a floozy, asked. She fluttered her eyelashes and tugged at dangly paste earrings. “Help a girl out.”

“God, my feet are killing me. Take my place so I can sit down and I’ll give you a winning tip.”

The lady was used to dead feet. She had on heels that were half her height. “Deal.”

And it was Marmalade by a nose.

We’ve Cornered the Market in Tragedy

Fall colors pull me into the corner boutique. Rich burgundy, rust, and hints of black, abstract shapes intertwine, chase an Asiatic pattern over the five foot silk length. I’m in love. When I wrap the scarf three times around my neck, the sales lady says, “It suits you. You have a long neck. A dancer’s neck.” I’m not a dancer. I have two left feet. But I take it because the colors perfectly suit the melancholy of the fall day. On the sidewalk outside, there’s a newspaper in the box at the corner. The headline reads, “People’s Temple: Mass Suicide.”

Things People Never Get Over

“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.

Small Sins; Have Mercy

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

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.

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: