Musak

Coffee shop musak drones on

Doing battle with the humming

Refrigerator, clanking of dishes

And cars outside accelerating,

Slashing through rain, to make the light

A song I never liked, a group I never cared for

Makes me beg for a commercial

Yet, revives a memory

Of laughter and banter

Connected to something that is no more

The song is gone

And I look out the window

At drenched trees with leaves aflame

Soon to drop

And be no more

Things I Don't Like

Number one. Going to the doctor.

Not that going to the doctor
is the number one thing
that I don't like.
It's just, that it's the next thing
I need to do, that I don't like.
So, it defaults to be the
first thing on the list.
There are many other things that
I don't like. I know there are.
But I can't think
of them now.

Dear Rain,

Dear Rain,

This may be a difficult conversation.
You left about three months ago
No notice or warning
One day you're with us
Next day gone
We're not used to this
At times you've been away
For a week or two
But this was different
Day after day
Week after week
Until we started counting by months
We heard you were in other places
Far away places
Let's be honest
We thought you didn't care
And so we moved on
Seemingly endless sunny days
We got used to it
But this morning you came back
There was a bit of warning
Things felt different
The past few days
Guess you can come and go
As you please
But you need to understand
We are people
We have feelings
What we're trying to say
Is that we may need to
Renegotiate this relationship
We sincerely hope you understand

For Kyle

From August to December

Or January when we’re lucky

Sunshine and sound breeze

Fold into the fickle autumn

That vacillates between

Days of Indian Summer and

Others of unrelenting rain

Eventually giving way to

Dark, too short days of bitter

Whipping wind

With more rain from near any direction

Or an occasional snowfall,

Which is almost a welcome relief

Long drives with predictable radio chatter

We’ll talk a bit; kids and work

But mostly players and the game

What might happen

What is hoped for

And what is feared

We park and walk and talk some more

Tend to our pregame rituals

Eventually arriving at our seats

To once again greet our neighbors,

Our friends;

Jordan, George, Sam and others,

We know more by face than name

The pregame frenzy

Usually finds me wiping tears

Being together, game after game

Year after year

The hope of what might happen

And the acceptance of what does

Shared moments and memories

The game begins

We ride the waves  

The schizophrenic dance of

Winner’s celebrations and losers mutterings

Then its over and we make the walk to the car

And talk about next time

2012

2013

2014

2014

2015

2017

2018

2019

2021

2022

2023

2024

2025

2026

The list

Step number 1:

Make a list of all the things I can’t control

Step number 1: redo

Make a list of all the things I can control

Step number 1: redo, redo

Forget the list

Thirty-five

I originally wrote this for our 35th anniversary. today is our 38th.

Thirty-five

Sometimes I wasn’t sure
We’d make it
Sometimes I wasn’t sure
I wanted to

When we started
I assumed we’d get here
Expected us to stay together
But had no clue what was ahead
Or what it would take

It’s not a milestone,
Like fifty
But well past twenty-five
People notice twenty-five and fifty
Appears thirty-five
Is no big deal
According to public opinion,
At least

Memories made
And more forgotten
Seasons of devotion
And trials of anxiety
Grace remembered
And offenses forgiven
And much forgiven again

It is the choice we made
The path we’ve followed
And I would choose it again
I think I do
I hope we do
Everyday

technically... continued

this must be what it's like
for a pilot holding space
in the sky
at the discretion of
some unnamed controller
so near your destination,
you can see it, almost smell it
but unable to
make your "final descent"

do they play games?
counting how many of your
friends are also circling
or the alphabet one
hoping to see someone from
Qantas to get that "Q"
before unnecessarily banking a turn
laughing while passengers
gasp and grab

anything to quell the boredom
but, technically... they are on the clock