Bright And Gold And Huge And
We were having a drink
at a table out near the sidewalk
in a city I had never been to and
over the sound of the street
she told me about a place I
have never been to and
a person that I have never met and
I daydreamed about going there
as she talked and
behind her the sun was bright and
gold and huge and
the waitress brought another round and
sitting here now in this dark room
I would give anything for a drink on
a sidewalk in a city I have never
been to.

    … Enjoy! 

At The Bottom Of The White Box

I have spent the entire day alone. (I recommend that everyone do this once in a while.) It is now 10:21 PM and my only contact with another human has been at the Chinese take-out and the lady who gave me the finger because she thought it was her turn at the 4-way stop. “Why yes, I would love a fortune cookie,” I said to the girl behind the counter. She threw one in and I returned to the quiet house to eat my food. I didn’t even bother to take it out of the little white box and took a seat at the desk and there was a Thelonious Monk Pandora channel on and as I ate I had lonely conversations with myself in which I am fairly certain that I solved all the worlds problems and was certain that only good was going to come from that moment forward. “My fortune cookie will be the test,” I thought to myself. I grabbed the cookie and broke it open and flipped the fortune over to read, “Made In The USA”. What the hell is that? Made In The USA? That is no fortune.That was it, no words of wisdom, just that. I couldn’t help feeling a bit midlead by the words “Fortune Cookie” on the wrapper. I threw the fortune on the desk, picked up the brush and went to the conversations with myself.

It Only Takes Three Blocks To Walk In Your Shoes

Her eyes were full of tears and I don’t know why because I was just walking by her and I didn’t know her and she was on the phone, not talking, just crying and listening and I kept walking down the sidewalk away from the crying and I stopped at a store front window and looked at the expensive watches on display and imagined the person who would buy such a watch and I looked back where I came from and the crying woman was no longer there crying on the sidewalk and I imagined such a person who would make that woman cry and I couldn’t imagine either one of them and I turned back up the sidewalk and kept on walking.

When Your Head Hits The Pillow

It is very late or very early depending if you are awake like I am or asleep like the rest of the people on my street. When I pause in between things, I can look out the window into the night and the silence on the street is visible and as I look at the houses all tucked in, I am thinking of recent events that have resurrected thoughts of the old man and the old man’s ways and the old man’s words and everything else the old man dragged around with him and heaved upon everyone in his wake.

He has been gone for more years than I have fingers and all his garbage has been cleaned up and dealt with but there are times in these very late hours of the night (or early hours of the morning) that I am weakest and I look back and want to rethink things and I question the distance that he and I have created. 

Let me rephrase that. He created it and I have kept it. 

It is then, when you take the top of your head off and have a good look around and you unbutton your shirt and let your chest beat a little louder and you let the clock push on towards morning because you know eventually, when your head hits the pillow, it will all go back to how it used to be.