Frosting

 

No plans made.

No introductions.

No learning one another’s likes, dislikes, wants, yearnings, names.

They passed.

They smiled.

She whispered a hello.

She thought it stupid and forward.

He smiled.

He thought it stupid he didn’t say hello in return

She bought cake mix and sprinkles.

He liked sprinkles.

He wouldn’t ask her to coffee “I never do this, I’m sorry, I’m so embarrassed”

She didn’t invite to share her recipe “I don’t even eat cake. I take it to work.”

He would never learn her husband died the winter past.

“Playing hockey like he was seventeen once a week..”

“.. Drinking beer and eating garbage like he was forty five six days a week”

She would never learn his wife left him for her boss.

“He was married. His wife and I had revenge sex, twice..”

“… they found out. It ended very, very badly.”

He would not know she cried every night until she was asleep

In a pool of tears

She would never learn he spent every day scouring job sites

Hoping to find something dangerous far, far away.

She saw him sitting in his car after he went through the checkout.

He saw her in the produce section.

She hoped he would come back in, she would ask him to coffee.

He debated going back in, he would ask her for her recipe.

Too forward.

Too creepy.

They left alone.

And wasted opportunities frosted the loneliness that baked in their hearts

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observations in an Irish pub

Sitting alone

it’s okay, I like being alone

sometimes

eating fish and chips

Drinking a cider

reading a book

Hockey on the television

Russia versus canada

But I don’t watch

The fish is good

a couple old and grey

Dwindling in their days

Together

but it’s okay

They kiss

They like being together

Young couples, two

Guys typical baseball 

Sad at a loss

The girls feigning interest

And sorrow

because their boys are sad

The chips are good

Guy standing at bar

Just left work though it is after eight

he is alone

He doesn’t look happy to be alone

Two hipsters

Ironic biker shirts

They wouldn’t last ten minutes

At the Hotel Belvedere

But they are here and happy

Animated talk of  some interest

Or another

The cider is good

The old gray haired lady smiles around the room

Her man is off to pay the bill

The boys smile at the girls

The loss forgotten

The girls smile at the boys

Their efforts successful

The hipsters smile at the world

Happy they have a friend for life

And my tartar sauce is good

And the guy alone at the bar

Smiles vacant at nothing

His life his job

Consuming

He will get it one day

Time for another cider

Then sleep

And smiles of returning home

Tomorrow

For being alone is only okay

In small  doses

Saturday Morning Rap

Okay it has rained all night

And I’d like it to stop

My cats are going crazy

As it’s flooding my crop

And by crop I mean my lawn

Which is brown as a Greek

No that isn’t racist

Had spanokopita this week

I think I want souvlaki

and some ouzo too

And maybe I’m just hungry

as its breakfast time ooh!

But there’s nothing good to eat

But cereal made from quinoa

A weird hippie  concoction

That tastes all zippadee doo dah

Rainy day movie

Yes! Song of the South!

But it’s racist, you can’t rent it

Without soap for your mouth…

Sorry. It’s 8:22 and all I’ve had is three coffee. .
good morning Vietnam!

Zzz

And He Watched

dark-foggy-forest-moon-night-sky-Favim.com-104519

And he watched

From the kitchen window as he sipped his herbal

Into the nocturnal pitch he stared

Anticipating a flash of eye

but none

was offered he

And he watched

From the livingroom window

Beside his fire, warm and crackling

Awaiting proof

But none made itself visible

He could hear them through his open blinds

as he did not sleep

as he lay

alone

so alone

And he watched

From the safety of his raised wooden deck

axe in hand

glass of whisky in other

Of course,

they did not appear

but they saw

And he watched

As his wife and children fled

his obsession

insanity

corruption

absence

anger

And they did not appear

But he heard them

and he smelled their musk

and he knew they who stole away his brother

and father

and mother

were back

to finish their work

for his family were tied to the wood

and the wood tied to they

but the things, the wretched scaled hissing things

they wanted the wood without ties

bindings

connections

And he watched

As they in the darkness planted seed

stretched root

pulled runner

made the wood move

toward his cabin

closer

closer

close, enough

And he watched

And he fell

into ruin

and sickness

and sleep

And they watched

And they saw

and by night they stole into his open window

and tore him asunder

And he watched as they did rend

and he watched as light failed his glassy eyes

and as they screamed in guttural glee

and he knew

all was lost

as the moon rose into the sky

full and silent

and made twisted shadows on the open blinds

and he slept, confident in the knowledge

that one day they would know

he was right

As they dragged him into the wood

to become one with they

and his

and theirs

and the wood

again

 

Windy

Windy by The Association.
He hummed it when stressed
It brought about calm
He whistled it when anxious
It allowed him to focus
A throwback to his youth
A memory of his mother ironing
Folding,  cleaning, cooking,  singing
Windy washed away the age
Windy blew away the years
Windy had stormy eyes
Windy by The Association
It allowed him to focus
When he was about to fire a slack worker
When he was about to embezzle his firm
When he stood in line in the bank and contemplated crime
Windy gives his imagination wings that fly
Above the dreary clouds of middle age

The Wall

I’m not him. I never was. I never will be.
Potbellied,  flip flops, balding
A modern day Larry from the Three stooges
A giant billowing blue shirt
Images of a sunny beach
And a surfboard
His shiny new pickup red, chrome
Much needed for someone of his substantial girth
And height
He pulls up all smiles and winks and flirty glances
All for the girls at the cash
He reeks of booze and suntan lotion
He walks to the pharmacy and picks up his prescription
Requests to be served by his friend the pharmacist
Who barely seems to know him
Pays for his viagara quietly
Refuses a discussion on side effects
Puts it in the bag with his cheese puffs
Drives away, Pink Floyd blaring into the night