"The prison doors have been opened and my Love has been set free.:)"


~From Mr. P, my friend and mentor, on the passing of his bride


Mr. P, janitor of my high school during those years, and I spent many a late night together putting things in order after band/choir/student organization events. More on this later when I better understand the onslaught of emotion coursing through my veins right now.

Fancy That

"The balloon is ready, I've tethered it to the balcony with a knot no sailor could invent. Ignore the gathering crowd below. Plebeians! Maybe if we look closely we will find our mothers waving handkerchiefs, and our fathers scowling. If we see any children we'll throw them candy but don't tell them why we are up here, floating above Belleville in a hot air balloon. If they knew, they'd never want to sleep in their own beds ever again.

Remember how we met? Barefoot on the beach (the hem of your dress starched white with salt). I was flying a beautiful kite. Yours was ragged and obviously self made. After a few failed attempts at flight you threw your kit on the sand and stomped on it. I wondered if it was your first kite. Kite making, you assured me, was not your specialty. But we are too old for kites. Let us toast the Flying Club Cup, our health, a quick painless death and helium.

I'm going to sleep so well tonight. Breathe in, deeply now, okay do you feel it? Don't worry, we're finally here."

~Beirut

Laundry List

Words words words
they fly around my eyes like bees
around a snow cone.

Buzzing, brushing, bumping,
Beckoning.

The laundry goes into the back of the pickup.
Scales to practice,
Do Re Mi--
But in 1776, TJ was hangin' in the hood...

Seriously, the engine rumbled to life
sparking the headlights aflame.
Out through the woods I go,
Fa Sol (not Soe)

And then I need to read chapter two,
And then I need to run this pattern again,
And then I need to put that keyboard back together,

Oh, and don't forget to be creative.
Stick out and build your resume.
All the successful people do it.

On the highway,
the night runs by at 70 miles an hour.
It's too dark too really see that though. Good thing I have
a speedometer.
I hope the clothes aren't blowing out of the back...

La Ti Do!
I bet you can't sing a minor scale though.
Remember, the vowels round out when you
flatten.
And the vowels square up when you
sharpen.

Wal-Mart waves in passing.
I don't have any pens...

Are the clothes okay?
The time is 10:12 p.m.
If I go to bed soon, I can get up at 6:02 a.m.
and then have enough time to practice my scales then.

It's the only way of insuring creativity.
That's what they told me
anyway.

I miss my dog.

Screech. Halt.
Shit. My fault.

(so much for folded clothes)

The dog continued on his way across the street.
The owner sighed with relief and incredulousness.

C'mon, man, it's night though.
Keep your dog on a leash at least.

But then I remembered,
(or I was reminded, rather)
that the world is much bigger than my mind.

How presumptuous of me.

Wasted

So easily the time slips by

when I am doing nothing of consequence.