Tuesday, March 3, 2015

A Man on a Bus



A Man on a Bus

                                                                                                   As he climbs the steps up entering the bus he is reminiscent of the life he has lived. Smiling to the driver he deposits his change into the meter and slowly makes his way to a seat on the driver’s side; he always sits on the driver’s side. The bus has only three people on it. About the same for this time of night. He is staggered a bit as the bus pulls away from the stop so he lets the motion help him to fall into the seat, sliding over he moves up to the wall and looks out the window.
               The night is broken by the blue white glare of the street lamps, the amber and green glow of the stop lights all being reflected on the still wet pavement. He settles into the corner and lets his head rest into the corner between the head rest and the glass feeling the cool glass he feels the cold wind as he and his friends are skating along the edge of the lake, staying close to the shore using the houses as a wind break they work their way upwind to the far end of the lake. Crossing to the center  the boys line up looking at each others back, turned edgewise to the wind until they all are in line. Shouting “NOW” nearly in unison they all turn their backs to the wind, throw up their arms billowing out their coats and let the wind catch them. Wind and sun at their backs and on the newly sharpened blades of their hockey skates they move faster and faster along the rough windswept ice.
               Hitting a rough spot in the pavement the bus bounces him on the bicycle seat as he crest the hill and flashes down. Remembering that the trail turns sharply to the right at the bottom he pushes the peddles back braking the rear tire, sliding he turns into the new trail whooping to the ones behind him. Bouncing along, down into a gully and up onto the road. He is followed by the other boys except one that did not make the turn. Sliding sideways with the braked rear wheel they all come to a stop laughing and waiting for the last boy to pick himself up from the long grass and catch up.
               The bus turns left and his head looses contact with the window as he skates as fast as he can. There is no moon tonight but that does not matter. The game is hid and seeks on the lake and he is the prey this time. The other boys are not far behind and will tag him soon unless he can lose them in the dark. The sounds of heavy breathing and the rasping sounds of the skates are all that can be heard. As he looks to his right his foot contacts a small drift of snow pulling his feet out and behind him. Before he can recover his head hits the window again as a street lamp flashes by. Making contact with the ice head first he tastes the pain as well as see the flash of light and can hear the melon like thump. Spinning and sliding as his momentum ends with the friction of the ice and snow. Laying still trying to get keep from blacking out he realizes that the other boys have skated by him not seeing him, dark on the dark ice. He smiles through the pain knowing he has won this round.
               Smiling as he sleeps he turns to Rich pointing up. “LOOK AT THAT MAN” as another firework explodes above the boat. They had rowed out here for almost an hour just to get below where the fireworks are set off. They both think this is the best 4th of July ever. Hot glowing embers and other debris are falling all around them as they whoop and shout. Another blue white flash as the next street light moves alongside the bus and then is gone.
               The bus stops to pick up another passenger and he comes partly awake. His eyes open only momentarily as the doors close and the warm breeze slides past his cheek, turning he kisses her.  The sand shifting under him as he twists to put his arm around her. It is so warm here and the smell of the sea along with the sounds of the waves booming makes this the perfect place to sit and purpose to her. He reaches up to brush the hair from his head feeling the trace of blood  Running through the woods nude sounded like great idea until the branch smacked him with that ruler, she was mad because I fell asleep in class, this boring  Sunday school class.
               “Hey” yells the driver. Fishcreek road, ain’t that your stop?” Startled by the yell he wakes up, looking up he sees a slumbering woman start and then get up. The woman exits the bus followed by a sigh of brakes and the closing thump of the door as the bus lurches forward again. He turns his tired eyes to the window and without realizing they have been walking for hours. This new dredge cut behind the dam is like walking on another planet. Both of the boys are happily walking along under blue skies. The summer heat is dissipated in waves by the breeze that blows past them. They are talking about being the only people left on the world and that they have to find a girl. The sharp smell of urine rises as they have a pissing contest down the embankment, a contest that no one ever wins. They turn and head back the way they came. He stumbles and he is jerked awake again as the bus slams to a stop amid the curses of the driver at the jay walker. Pulling the bus to the curb the driver opens the door with a slam. The rider gets slowly to his feet and heads to the front of the bus, this is his stop. As he descends the stairs he pauses to say good night to the driver, he is thinking that another day is nearly done as he walks home alone.

Saturday, February 28, 2015

A Face



A Face

I reach my hand out but it will not pass
It’s like it is against some glass
I want to touch you; I can see your trace
I want fingers to touch your face
Are you real is what I see
Are you now or someone to be
Will you speak and can I hear
Should I love you, should I fear
Do you dwell for my eye
Does you face only on glass lie
Is your image like a photo plate
Are you joy. Are you my fate
Are you real, or a composite of mind
Someone so new or one from behind
Will my hand ever pass beyond the glass’s trace
Will I once just touch your face

2/2015

Beer



Beer

Beer is great. Beer is one of the best things in life. There is not much that I do not like about it. I like the taste and the texture, the way that if feels and the look of it. I also love the way that it smells. Beer has a way of making you feel real good and it does make you feel real close, all warm inside. Another great thing about beer is the way that the feelings of it linger for a while. It is a very good thing that we really like. Now I know that not everyone likes beer the same as me or that everyone wants that same amount of beer that I do. Each and every person is different when it comes to this. I have also heard that women do not like beer as much as men do, as a rule but I am not totally convinced about this. I think that it is not the beer or that they do not like it but more how often that they want some of it. I have learned to enjoy the finer points of beer the last few years and have found that quantity is nice but quality is better. I have also noted that the amount of beer that I desire is not what it used to be. I do not like it less just do not need as much to be happy. I also look forward to the time that I encounter beer. There is nothing bad to be said about having a good beer with the one that you love.

As life goes on things happen and as it is now I have not been able to have any beer for a while. Oh it is not mine or the fault of anyone else. It is just one of those things that we have no control over. I have thought from time to time that it maybe my fault but I have come to understand that I have done nothing wrong and there is nothing being done to me. It is just the way it is. I do miss the beer, sometimes more than others. I know that my partner misses the beer also. Sometimes I know that she feels that my having to miss the beer is her fault but I know that it is not. And I know that she misses having beer as much as me. Now, I am not addicted to or obsessed with beer, it is just something that I really liked. I really thought that I was obsessed for a while. I think that maybe I did suffer from withdrawal but I know now that was in my head. It's just one of those things that when you cannot have what you want, you want it all the more plus I was used to having beer just about whenever I wanted it.

Part of the problem is that I no longer have any control when I will have beer and I do not know from time to time when I will have any. I have had to learn to accept the fact of this loss of control. For a man, this is a hard thing to do. There are times that I just want to reach out and have some beer; I mean it is there close at hand. Sometimes the urge to have some beer is very strong. I have nothing physically wrong with me to stop me from having beer, but the situation does not lend itself to this. So I am learning to do without beer so often. I am also learning to not be as bothered by the loss as I was in the beginning. I have to admit though; sometimes this is very, very difficult.

I know that sometimes I wish that there was someone that was responsible for taking beer away from me. Think about it, if I could yell at someone or hold someone responsible for this then I could vent some of the frustration I feel about this. I could argue and deal with this "person". But unfortunately there is no one that I can find to take this out on. I know that my partner is not at fault and that she is as upset about this as I am, she cannot have beer whenever she wants either and I know that she likes beer. It is very frustrating that your partner wants beer and cannot have it. She has no one to yell at either just like I do not. Remember that beer is one of lives simple pleasures and one that is not missed until it is gone. When beer is gone or the use of it is few and far between remember you will live without it. There are things to help the feelings pass. You should do your very best to enjoy all the other things in life, and try hard not to think about the things that you cannot have. Besides, who said that you will never have beer again? Hey, man does not live by beer alone.

Now you know that I am really not talking about "beer", but something we all like even better. (If you haven't figured it out yet, take out the word "beer" and insert the word "sex").

(originaly written for my mendo website in late 90's)

Thursday, February 26, 2015

Band-Aids




Band-Aids

We loved them as kids, showed them off to our friends, and wanted the most beautiful or funny or… There was Flintstones, Band-aid brand and many, many more. Some kids just put them on for a conversation piece; some hated them because they became a conversation piece. Regardless of the type you were then, my bet is that you are still wearing them now. Some are just as bright and obvious now as some of them were then. The difference is that it is a smile or a laugh or a happy mask that you ware out, the one kept by the door that you place on your face before facing the public and most “friends”.
 Some are not so well seen, better hidden. Those are the “normal” looks that you place on your face, the “normal” demeanor that you project when dealing with the public and “friends”. Sometimes these aids are multi faceted, meaning more than one band-aid to cover the wounds that you have suffered.

Some of these band-aids do not even cover the wounds, and they show and leak all around the edges. Some only cover part time and allow the wound to show at the worst time to the ones that we wish not to show. And some of the band-aids just fall off. Fall off when we least expect them and we have to scramble to put it back on again before to many notice.
 As you probable have figured out, the wounds are the trauma that has been dealt to us from someone else. The leaking is not blood although it does feel that our very lives are draining out of us but instead the tears that flow at the drop of a hat. To us and to the ones that have been down this road, wearing the same shoes that we now inhabit, the wounds are gaping and ghastly, in some cases putrid and smelling of death and almost always fear. Some of the wounds are like scratches that cover our skin in its entirety causing repeated damage and encompassing pain.
 The band-aids are things like the smile we plaster on our face to “show” we are OK or the happy go lucky demeanor that we present even when dying in side; “send in the clowns.”
 That loud, in your face, attitude that we adopt to cover the pain and loss, “I am OK!” A band-aid can be what I am doing right now, writing; this is a band-aid to me although not the only one. Interaction between birds of a feather is a band-aid that soothes and comforts the soul, be it only for a little while. Some choose to use the HOUSE band-aid for comfort and not leave the confines of it. That way they do not have to worry about anyone seeing them in this “state” or trying to get them out to heal. A band-aid can become self pity and loathing thinking that this is “all my fault, I should have done something better!” 
 Finally and sadly, I have read of those that have chosen the permanent band-aid. I admit I even considered this one for a short time. Permanent band-aid is a bullet, non reversible, non refundable and non conducive to life.
 But the best band-aid that I and many have found is the “life” one, the one that allows you to once again experience life, joy and happiness. This one can be put on and it just seems to disappear as time goes by, like the dissolving stitches, just gone without notice.
 It is a beautiful band-aid, covers all, soothes all, heals all and works best with time. Sadly you cannot buy this band-aid, you have to accept it, work for it, strive it and each time you fail you have to get up and do it again for I am learning that it is the best band-aid for the continuing life and happiness that we are seeking.
 When this band-aid disappears and is gone you do not notice but do notice that you are OK and getting along well; that the pain and fear and all the other ills that you once had with that wound are mostly gone.
 Sorry, it does not seem to get rid of scars but does make them less painful.
Oh one other thing; I am not sure but I think that the band-aid of which I speak can be passed from one to another and it does not spread ill will but hope and healing.

Just my thoughts for today
And the journey continues….
5/10/2011

Monday, February 23, 2015

Die Tomorrow



Die Tomorrow

If I were to die tomorrow
Please do not feel pain or sorrow
For with you I have learned to live
And how with love I can give
While I lay upon the cold, cold slab
I could look down upon you and the lab
And still feel the love we would had.
As I await where time has no hold
I would know why you love was so bold
And how you seemed to know from the start
What was in your own heart.
So as I lay so quiet and cold
Know that your love is the spark I hold
So when your time comes to pass
We will be together again at last.

11/1996