fingers

seek out

mindlessly prod

deep bruise

recollections

of you

learning

some wounds

are quite slow

to heal

O, Lord, if I am to die of asphyxiation,

let it be of carbon monoxide

let it be in the garage of my home

let it be the smell of my dad’s 1967 Porsche 911’s engine filling the room

it smells like nostalgia (purified)

it smells like a memory (fading)

it smells like home (home)

O, Lord, if I am to die of asphyxiation,

Lord, let me die at home.

-

(2023)

Babies laughing

puppies leaping

sun rising

rays shimmering

on waves rolling

breezes blowing

colorful leaves fluttering

rain falling

puddle jumping

cold-day cuddling

hand holding

arm-in-arm walking

silly dancing

dumb joke telling

belly laughing

cooking, baking

meal making

sports watching

card playing

porch sitting

bird watching

garden growing

snowman building

poem writing

story typing

oil painting

music tickling

my ears listening

your fingers strumming

lips smiling

hearts beating

spoon sleeping.

I make these internal deals.

Don’t cry now. Cry in the shower. Later. Today, my belief rocked, I refuse the deal.

Something springs to mind: a t-shirt printed with “I almost stopped believing today… Journey is gonna be so pissed”. Stupid. I laugh through tears.

At a railroad crossing, a train approaches. I pause on the tracks.

If I don’t move soon, the engineer will need to make decisions. I’m sure there’s a “sad idiot on the tracks” protocol.

I accelerate and continue on my way.

“… she took the midnight train going anywhere”

Lyrics now stuck in my head.

The flowers will still bloom

as will the trees,

the sky will reign blue

as will the seas,

all will be as it ever was

long after we cease to be;

but nothing will be the same

when you have left me

the sun will shine

yet only shadows will I see

for my sun will be no more

your light gone from me;

And thus, I weep alone

so that when I hold you

I do not to cry for what has been

and soon won't be

but rather smile,

while you are still with me.

Grandma kind of sprung it on us, and we laughed so hard, it should be tagged #ROFL.

We had returned after laying Grandpa to rest among the bush and the earth he so loved to commune with, and Grandma was reminiscing about their five decades worth of journey with moist eyes.

We got a glimpse into the man; the husband, the father, the soldier, and friend. A life lived with gusto, and zero regrets.

“So what now, Grandma?” someone asked.

She replied like a catapult snap:

“I am getting a bloody electric blanket first! He never let me buy one.”

“Where we going, Mama?” Little Mac asked as they drove out of town.

“We havin’ us an adventure, sugar.”

“An adventure? We going to a jungle or somethin’?”

“No, baby.”

After a long pause, Little Mac asked, “We runnin’ away ’cause Daddy done been sprung from jail?”

Annie Mae looked in the rearview, surprised. “What you say?”

Little Mac stared back with eyes just like his daddy's. “Gator come up to me at recess when I was playing with Red and Tommy. He asked was I sayin’ my prayers ‘cause sho’ ‘nuf I'd need'em since Big Mac had been sprung from prison and no doubt he was comin’ home to beat us some more or worse…”

“Baby, Gator don't know nothin’ ‘bout nothin’. We havin’ ourselves an adventure.”

“Where we goin’, Mama?”

“Well, I done filled the tank in this here car, and we gonna drive toward the settin’ sun till it's almost empty and if it's a nice looking town, well, I'll find me a job and we'll settle down, just you and me. Get us a nice little house…you'll see.”

“I ever gonna see Red and Tommy again? They's my best friends in the whole world.”

Annie Mae's eyes filled and she blinked hard at the road. “Maybe, sugar. Some day.”