Without Further Ado (And Editing) May I Present…


Michael Jackson wrote a song about ‘Remember the Time’ and the Stones had an early hit named ‘Time Is On My Side’. Jim Croce sang a beautiful ballad called ‘Time in a Bottle’ while the Chambers Brothers sang a heavier version of ‘Time Has Come Today’. Remember when Jim Croce died and some talk show had his widow singing one of his songs and she cried though the whole thing? I remember thinking ‘insensitive’ and ‘sadists’. Had he left a baby behind too? Those days most people were high. Strong argument for how it dulls the brain, wouldn’t you say?


The time is 4:51 a.m. The muse doesn’t discriminate when it comes to time. It seems it’s time for me to write in Times New Roman font (har – I know, it’s a stretch). Luckily I fell asleep early without movie to lull me, trick my eyelids to close. Although there are 24-hour grocery stores, when there’s more light in the sky, when daylight cracks its lids for me to see its promise, it’ll be time for me to go shopping. Good thing too – when I open the fridge moths fly out complaining the ketchup, mayonnaise and ranch dressing aren’t very talkative. Make no mistake, I’m not a ranch dressing person although bacon-ranch makes it more tolerable, but my grandson is. He calls it sauce and dips pizza, chicken sticks, fish sticks and occasionally french fries in it – yuk – but he likes it. My spell check says it’s time to redline french fries for capitalization. Should I? It’s a name but nothing formal. Now if I were speaking French that would be different. Hmm.


According to physics and postulated by Einstein and his fellow scientist-geniuses in IQ, time doesn’t exist. We’ve got past and future but the present fleets by us and we’re never in the present but in the past. True. We don’t have time to say it’s gone before it’s way passed. Time goes by faster than the speed of light, faster than space travel. I live in the present – not. Man made time to chop up the day for profit, to get us to school on time. Maybe big business was the angel that was cast out of heaven, fell to earth, and that’s when time began. Gives a little kick to the saying ‘learn from the past’. Guess we don’t have to go too far back. Then again if we sit too long and think, we’ve just made ancient history.


How am I doing so far for a person who was at a loss as to what to write about time?
Dial 1-800…
Like those bumper stickers that ask how we like the driver’s driving and give a number to call. While driving isn’t the time to start pressing buttons on a cell, and if we don’t like the *@#!!^* person’s driving we might be more apt to take the time to yell out the window.


Remember times of innocence
Were we ever?
Just born
What I call fresh from God
Sure we were
We’ve acted in innocence too
Though it may’ve turned into ‘my bad’
Still can

Remember the time we went to Florida
And sailed the glass-bottom boats?
Remember when I bought cans of sunshine
Could I have been any more of a touristy-Yankee from NY?
The very reason the sunshine was canned
(Partly heartfelt
Sharing southern warmth)
Was for times like this and people like me
I don’t mind




Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “time.”





Days Of Flatmates Passed: Burn Notice


Flatmates moving out
Don’t be helpful I think
But I thought too late
As I gathered up the pile
Of lesson plans and homework
Stuck together with spent prophylactics
Happy I was wearing my utility gloves
These I’ll discard, get a clean pair for dishes
I sighed
As an empty contraception packet
Slipped from between
No easy feat
For it I mean
Getting through passion’s gunk
Don’t want to imagine how lessons were planned
Into the trash with the last of the homework
A mental command
Good luck with your grades
But the floor is clean


I can’t help but muse
She doesn’t want children
Still she could have been more careful
Insect repellant was missing
Flyswatters too
Sarcasm it’s true
Plastic wrap could have been handy
In a number of ways
And large rubber bands
That caused me to laugh
Like when someone dies
Credit is given
For something not earned
I know nothing of her man
Didn’t want to
For health’s wellness and wellness’s health
This should be burned


I’ll have to say when my time has come
To move out too
I’ll miss my bidets
The Europeanism of temperature control
At least they have them
In this place where I am
Not European per se
Not Asian exactly
But I guess cold water freezing hemorrhoids
Is punishment from above for still being human?

Or is it humane?

So ends sublime thought as I peel my gloves off
Using a biohazard technique
Keeping quarantine clean
For my sake for certain
Possible infection at bay
Now where’s that disinfectant spray!

Behind His Eyes


I loved everything you’d do

Resilient, how diversified

So many personalities

Yet, I felt concern

What went on behind your eyes?

A sense of dread

Seeing ease with every change

Frightened I thought

Could anyone get close?

Could anyone know you?



I’m guessing no



Being treated for

How do you treat a state of mind

Telling you to die

And it makes sense to do



Now there’s peace

But I can’t shake this pain

Soul deep

As the black dog walks alongside me

My guardian angel t’would be

Till I reach that divide

Now ends my ride

As what remains becomes seed






The prompt for this week is:

…the black dog walks alongside me…


Tween Sleep And Awake


They were twins but you’d never know it. She looked like her mother and her twin looked like her father, one had black hair while the other had sandy brown, and one was reserved while the other was outwardly wild. To see them together you wouldn’t think they were friends.


As Angela thought back to much younger days she laughed to herself. Her friend Creep was there with her. They’d both come a long way from washing hallucinogens down with hard alcohol as they now sat on her front porch sipping tea with honey and half n’ half, something Angela’s Irish father had turned them onto so long ago.


“Why did I name you Creep? I can’t remember.” “You wanted to have a special name for me and couldn’t come up with anything else at the time. You were tripping.” “I have a hard time you know. When I want to say something sometimes it takes me a minute to get it out.” Creep patted Angela’s shoulder. “You were far more hardcore drinking than I ever was. It takes its toll but look at you – a good job, a nice place – you survived it and beautiful kids to boot. You keep going.” “Yeah but most days it’s like I’m still high living between asleep and awake, you know not awake yet though I woke an hour ago.” “The dreamy ‘tween time. Listen, there’s nothing you can’t do. You know what’s funny – how you were supposed to be the wild child of the two of you, yet Madison was the one who got herself knocked up – shocker, shocker – and with all you’ve been through, you had five kids with one man and they’re all terrific. She got married, yeah, but he’s unfaithful, has always been that way, and they’re still together.” “Yeah. She was into hard drugs when all that happened too. Anytime anyone spoke about it, it was in whispers as if she were an angel who fell from heaven. For me it was like, ‘she ran away to Greenwich Village, yawn, yawn’.” Sighing a nod Creep picked up her tea and looked at the sunset as she tried to ignore the cars flying down the street like it was the Indianapolis 500’s track.


“I think your tween sleep and awake mind state is catching, you know, like a contact high. If this were reality police would have these clowns pulled over writing out tickets to support the policeman’s ball.” “They have balls?”


Creep spit out a mouthful of tea as they both burst out laughing and a police car came screaming after a speeder pulling him over across from the house. She grabbed a napkin to wipe her chin; they looked at each other and doubled over.




Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: double/two/bi-/twin or anything else you can think of that means “two.”


Fablecalyptic: Circa 1981

We would visit each other almost daily. My 4-year old son would walk with me to her house and play with her 5-year old while she and I shared a bottle of Soave and discussed life in general. Her fiancée’s parents were members of a faith that had the inside scoop about the end of the world. They were so certain they and their members were selling all worldly possessions and would gather at the meeting place where they knew they’d be taken up. As this day, place and hour approached uncomfortably close – now why would that be – his parents kept calling him warning him to be prepared. I was there for some of those calls after which we’d sit and look at each other. He’d tried to talk them down just in case to no avail. Man’s arrogance knows no bounds now knowing all things too, but he didn’t see it like that. With a child’s innocence he figured he’d stumbled upon something. In any case it was 50/50.

As we were walking toward the door to leave, I asked my friend if she thought the world might really end. Reflecting for less than a second she said, “There’s no sense worrying if it is.” “True, that’s true. I’ll see you here tomorrow unless the world ends. Maybe we’ll be meeting somewhere that never runs out of Soave and the kids can just stay happy and play.”

I awoke the next morning to a gorgeous Indian-Summer day. As I stood in the small bedroom looking down at my slumbering son my first thought was ‘it didn’t end’ that for some reason gave me a feeling of exhilaration. As we began our walk I saw that instead of for purpose of apocalyptic event, the night winds had blown more brilliant fall leaves to the ground. There were so many trees more work would need to be done before they could be called bare just yet. My son and I kicked them up making our own private path as we walked. My friend’s front door was open welcoming the unseasonably warm; she already had the Soave ready. “Well, the world didn’t end.” “No, it didn’t. What about Anthony’s folks? Did they get rid of everything?”

A Winter’s Tale: Style Of The Time

When I knew I was older with each coming year,
Meaning I knew I had maturity way beyond my time
That each birthday confirmed of course
I had the energy and fire to stand up and defy
Someone acting appalled concerning my mini
The style of those times that became mine
Wore it year round
Deterred not from winter
It was made from the finest wool I could buy

Those were the days long hair was new
For boys I mean
Ridicule and mockery abounded alive
From men and women professional or not
Giving birth to a question ‘are you a boy or what?’
(Not that anyone couldn’t tell whose gender was who)
It wasn’t that long ago men wore wigs
But comfort zones were threatened
As if an unwelcome change

Strange the way some people behave

At least two feet of fabric to cover, there were
That could no way keep unfrozen my thighs,
Covered with tights, thick hose never warm enough
Turning deep red I waited, I waited for the bus
As so many cars drove by, didn’t even wave
Bundled from the bottom up
Wool coat, gloves, earmuffs and scarf
Unlined boots, fashionable that my feet froze too
That’s what I’d do.

I remember a biker who punctually rode past
All the seasons always high on the ride;
With a smile and face glowing
Were his cheeks red?
I didn’t notice
But as he passed in my heart I was going
It struck me ‘so cool’
No pun on a freezing day
But I knew he was my kind of guy.

These days I could never doubt
With all the years past
How to be young, to be vibrant at least
And at best, there’s wisdom enough left
Although plenty still to learn
But save the spittle I guess
No longer a need to defy
Serves no purpose in another one’s eye.

Energy and fire still blazing abright
Though I remain seated, keep relaxed
Or just walk along calm forever in light,
I know who I am, with that is no qualm
Cantankerous, most likely
Could be brilliant too but for you so surprised
Had you asked I’d tell you that’s why
I glance down at a melted snowy reflection
Breathing in a soft drawn-out sigh

Annunciation And Visitation

We were talking you know
She said she’d love to go
To take that trip and visit
Except her cash says no
She’s sorry otherwise
It could’ve been a great time
Sometimes that’s the way it is
When you’re just starting out
Have to build that nest egg
No sense to sit and pout
Keep working on the future
Is what I’m talking about!
She is too

Even though I have to say
Since she’s not heading this way
It’s too bad
And a little sad
Could’ve really been rad
Her company would’ve been cool
That’s not bad
But then there’s Dad
A headache to be had
He won’t always shell out the dough
At least not any more
Especially at her age
She won’t ask him
Oh, no
Not an emergency he’d say
She works anyway

But in that she doesn’t care
Prefers to live somewhere
Nearer to the sea
A southern place it could be
Meet a gent with an accent
She can hear his sweet song
Might just help her along
There’s a gut feeling to go
Wants to run her own show
Where she settles she’ll call home
A traveler will roam
Interesting places unknown
Finding one to call her own
Don’t give her any guff
She is woman
She is tough
At any age it’s told
So true no matter how old
Her plan will unfold