If you know me, you know when
I’m sick my normal state of
melancholy toys with discontent.
If you now me, you know about
my Friday tradition. It is Wally
Day. Wally stands for Wallander.
(Yes, the Swedish detective of
Henning Mankell origin! So, I
drink Gevalia weekly in their
memory and honor.) Somewhat
true. More than that really.
I don’t like coffee when it gets
cold, but I don’t like wasting it
either. I’ll drink it to a point.
Wallander and now Gevalia
somehow feed my unfulfilled
travel lust. Why do I identify
with him so?
Oh how I miss living overseas!
I’ve never been to Ystad; but
I’m there every Friday morning.
If only I could afford to live and
write somewhere other than
That point has been reached.
A little more than half a cup is
staring at me; turned to sludge
and separated cream floating
on the surface reminiscent of
a river filled with industrial
Doctor later this morning; not
for the cold, but for the more
annoying ills of this season of
A fresh pot is in order to
dissipate my discontentment
in the air of a steaming cup
Maybe black this time. Highly
unlikely. After one sip, I’ll add
my usual cream, two sugars.
Poet, Writer, US Army (Retired)
I dreamed of writing when I was a youngster. The love of books and writing may have helped to dull the pain of severe sexual abuse as I was sexually abused by two men at my father’s place of work from age 8 to 12 or so. I learned about this for the first time when I was 50 years old. So, as a boy, reading was the only place I had to go to. My fantasy world was better and safer than my real world. I loved reading and writing.
Reading books and writing poetry are a joy to me still and are an important part of my life. (See my About Me page on my blog for the complete profile.)