Between Shows


The other night,
I had just finished
watching something
or other and found

myself between shows.
The words floated then
formed in my mind—my
life is between shows.

No way I want to go
back; no idea what is
ahead. I can’t count
the times I was dead

certain about what
was next, what was
coming, or about love.
Wrong every time.

Hope was a train wreck
looking back. Decades
of deserted track. But
the train never stops;

I never arrive. Don’t
you see? The train
never stops; I never
get on. My life is

suspended

between shows.

Loneliness in Four Haiku


have you ever looked
at a painting and wanted
to melt into it

walk with her in that
field in eighteen ninety-eight
or sit with some friends

you don’t have lunching
at a Parisian café
circa nineteen ten

but that was their time
not mine so I hope and wait
for my time to come

 

Odds and Ends No. 54


I left my cravings where they were and
came here instead. The feelings were
so strong, nothing else would suffice.

I ran an errand to the post office. The
thought turned into a feeling, then a
stronger feeling. I thought of possible

substitutes on the way home. Donuts
wouldn’t fix this. A hike on my local
mountain trail would have been

helpful; but my feet weren’t up to the
task. After I got home, I sat down to
think. I couldn’t think so I killed a

million bubbles on my phone. The
thoughts returned. I know, some things
we can’t fix no matter how strong the

feelings, no matter how remote or
impossible it seems. Why do I keep on
trying to move mountains with a little

crowbar? Waiting is hard; real hard
when you don’t know what you are
waiting for. Waiting most of my life.

And I’m waiting again for the Lord who
said to Job, “Where were you when I
laid the earth’s foundation? Tell me,

if you understand.” Time to put down
the crowbar wielded by my impatient
mind and heart. Diffused for now.

Time to finish watching the movie
I started yesterday. Cup of tea, too.
No words for this last line, really.

Odds and Ends No. 47


You can tell what I ate for lunch
this week by thumbing through
the book I’m reading. A splash

of pasta sauce on page 194. A
drop of soup on the first page
of chapter fifteen. For today,

my last slice of bologna, two
thin slices of provolone, Dijon
mustard on wheat bread. Out

of radishes, so I went for three
green olives. A few crumbles of
odd gluten-free chips and of

course, thermos coffee. The
book I’m reading takes place in
Florence so the splotch of

sauce adds realism to the page.
It is 106° F a little after two. I
want to walk, but I need my

body to cooperate with me. My
feet hurt, but I want to do this!

I started to get ready to walk.
My left foot was too swollen
and painful. Trying to ignore

it wouldn’t work here. Not
walking was wisdom. So, I
changed into my uniform of the

day, e.g., warm up pants and
a T-shirt, then returned here
to my desk. I decided to be

content anyway. Another day of
life; no reason to pout or kvetch.
But I clicked one of those things

at the bottom of a news article
and wasted an hour looking at a
dumb “Where Are They Now”

series. I couldn’t remember half
the people shown. And a dumb
never-before-seen slide show

from the Vietnam War. Both of
them were goofy and a waste of
time. Why did I do that? Worse,

another one caught my eye about
the top twenty military countries.
The photos were odd and the

text was devoid of anything that
made sense to justify their
standing. Sounds like my life.

Still in a holding pattern, goofy,
and doesn’t make sense. I’m the
plane that never lands or the

train that never stops. Someday
the desires of my heart will
come true. And someday is

getting closer every day. (Garage
door going up. She is home.) We
talked while she nuked some

lentils in a light spicy tomato
sauce for her dinner. Our time
clocks don’t match. I’m thinking

afternoon tea or an espresso.
Tea is less of a chore. That is how
I feel today. No dinner thoughts.

But chapter sixteen, page 236
is on deck for tomorrow at lunch.
Tea thoughts evaporated for now.