Posts for June 8, 2021 (page 4)

My feet pound the pavement, lungs like
a bellows. Late sun rests warm hands

on my bare shoulders. Slight breeze,
hint of honeysuckle, dogs

are out walking the neighbors,
a steady pace pumping

through my earbuds,
and sweat runs

in streamlets
that meet in a river

down my spine,
something divinely

primitive in a full
summer sweat.

It’s not for sight of the lilies
or the daffodils, not for the break

from the desk chair, not even for the fresh
air. I do it because my body is designed to,

because I can, because this feels like a celebration.

The first time I laid eyes on Kevin

I took him for a Jack Tale come to life.

I mean I could see him as thirteen years old

headin’ down the road to seek his fortune

but here he was

in his mid-forties

on the porch

at our house

and all he wanted was a living wage.

Funny, ain’t it,

how all them tales ‘bout Jack ring true

but Kevin’s tale

is truth. 

I thought maybe I forgot how
to make one in the seven months

you’ve been gone from this earth,
but it was simple enough & to celebrate

flower planting out front was the perfect
occasion. I knew I had one of those little

cups of Blue Bell vanilla left in the freezer –
perfect, but I had to run to the Marathon

for an A&W to meet all your specifications –
just how you liked yours in one of those

old fat-stemmed smoke Duz goblets.
Let the ice cream soften enough &

you can squeeze it out of the cup. Plop.
Slide. Hold to open the A&W. Wait.

Fizz. Pour the root beer straight over.
Let it foam for a bit and then tilt

that glass to lessen the build, not too
much of a head, just enough. Add

a straw and one of the long spoons
we’ve had as long as I can remember

since we made pineapple & chocolate
sundaes in the summer on our back porch

on Pear Street. I’ll sit on the porch tonight &
enjoy it all, although half would be plenty.

Yesterday I could not
stop watching the fawns. 
I saw their first
steps through my dandelions.
This morning I saw
them alone, no doe,
which made me regret
every photo I took:
remember when they had
their mother? When they
nosed around, newly born?
Now, alone, neither moved
in the morning dew.
After my shower they
lay the same, unchanged.
I found the heavy
duty garbage bags, ready
to collect the dead.
When Emily inevitably asked,
I planned to say,
“When I looked this
morning, they were gone.”
Only one of us
needed to bear this. 
Then I saw a swell
in the ribs. I know,
it was really dark.
But, not dead, just alone.
Somehow this seemed worse.
I had to leave
for work, so left. 
If Emily loves deer
so much, she can
deal with absent mothers.
She Googled deer motherhood. 
Turns out, it’s just
what they do, ditch
their kid for days
to find food, forage
in a neighbor’s garden.
So now I’m avoiding
the backyard altogether, even
though the trash needs
to be taken out.
If you disturb fawns,
the mother won’t return.
These kids aren’t my
problem, except they are.
All of them are.
I cursed the garbage
truck’s grumble this morning,
wish my neighbor would
let her dog inside. 
I took a break
from writing to check
on a fawn curled
alone by the gate.
I feel the urge
to fight every local
walking his damn dog
down our cramped alley.

Rain was in the forecast today.
We knew that, but boy did we find out
just how much rain was on the way.

It was all the better that the workday was gentler.
The steady pattering on top of cavernous trailers
soaked the cool, Big Ass Fanned inside
with just the perfect ambience for sitting back
and shootin’ some shit with some coworkers,
right until the downpours truly begin.
Those are times best spent inside a trailer
where the thundering will drown out the radio
(though to be fair, I keep my volume down
because I really don’t like some of the voices on there)

But when that downpour hits,
I like to watch down the line of dock doors
as everyone darts to the nearest window
or a pulled back weather strip,
all way too excited to see what could only be
sheets of water falling from the sky.

Those weather strips can be something of a joke, though,
allowing pools of water
to occasionally drive a forklift, through.
Nothing like that adrenaline spike
when you suddenly lose traction and control
of a machine weighing more than three cars.

Sometimes, if the wind is blowing toward the building
hard enough to turn the downpour horizontal,
it’llll carry the storm straight through one of those weather strips.
You’ll just be minding your own business
and doing your job
when suddenly you’re being rained on inside the building.

Of course, the hope is that the weather will shift
sometime before the end of shift
’cause no one wants to drive home in that.
Come clock-out time,
everybody who works more toward the inside of the building
will be gathered at the door, befuddled.
Ready to get baptized? one guy will ask
unaware that I’ve been listening to the beats of the storm all day.

I’m not scared, I declare
as I cut through the crowd,
no jacket or anything,
just strolling out into the torrent
as if it was a bright and shiny day.
I’ll be drenched before I get to the car,
but for me, I appreciate the opportunity
to go opposite of what everyone is thinking.
We get so caught up in the day to day
that we lose sight of the magic
of just being able to not care,
and in that sense, 
there is a baptism to be enjoyed here.

I have a good job with great benefits
and a less intrusive schedule
that allows me to live life
in a way that best suits me.
Sure, there’s bullshit and there are times
where I just want to throw something,
but at the end of the day,
the choice is mine
to give up or keep pushing on to tomorrow.

So I climb into the car with rainwater dripping
from my face, my hair, my hat, and my clothes,
engaging in a fit of laughter.
There will always be a downpour coming,
always be a day when I don’t have control of my surroundings
or have misfortune thrust on me,
but it is only I who can let the rain in.

Hang on, jump into this
insanity –  moments of
unadulterated awe
moments of
deepest dark starkly
next to each other
on my timeline.
Exhilaration of
glee in green hills
and fresh peas
followed by
stomach plummeting
to the bottom of woe
from new death
announcements
and lists of fresh
infections –
Which way do I turn?
My head spins
through those bleak
nights but I rebound
quicker than most
realigned with purpose
driven to make
it all better
for someone.

when i was younger,
i often joined the adults
on our neighbor’s porch,
snacking on cheese & crackers,
the adults sipping red wine (it’s
good for the heart)—-& the distant
sound of thunder rolling in

God, Jesus, & all the angels—-
they’re up in Heaven bowling

God’s just rearranging the furniture,
up there in Heaven

Oh no, one of the angels
must have accidently dropped a plate

maybe even once (much more risque):
God, Jesus, & the angels are just
up in Heaven playing a round of poker

i would ponder these force-fed
explainations as i laid in bed,
lulled by the crash of thunder, heavy
rain, & spark of lightning in the window

now, i accept a storm for what it is—-
a bath, a clean slate, a fresh start

& i enjoy the lapse in thunder,
the ease of rain to just a sprinkling
in order to save a turtle from the road
& watch the cows graze their now-damp
field with the sun peaking through
the clouds

A pale orange light leaks through
trees in this small urban park. 

Mist, rising from the river, floods
the path I walk, settles on my skin.

It makes ghosts of other walkers
who take form as they approach, 

dissolve again as they pass. Birds,
all voice, no form, decorate the silence. 

Before stepping out
I won’t forget
to put hope in my pockets
and load my bag
with regrets.  

The sky opened her third eye and showered earth with her tears

                 Thunder cracked louder than my arthritic spine 

A child in a yellow raincoat races down the sidewalk
           
                   Lightning jumps clouds
                                         
                                                                            The child jumps puddles
                            
                                   I                                 j     u     m     p

I open my mouth yearning to taste the sky’s sadness, only she touches her lips to mine
                                and asks, “Would you prefer to drown instead?”