I write poetry, short stories, and journal entries about my family, friends, crime, drama, and sometimes life.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Veteran's Day
All wear red & white & blue & green
Most don't even recognize what it means
Explosions in the night are from where the light stems
Rambo, John Wayne, & Patton. I know all of them.
In the TV they say, "be all you can be"
Cuban cigars light Chinese fireworks of freedom
All hail the land of the free
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Prufrock's Acrostic (Insp. by T.S. Eliot)
I shall take the long road to work today
Wishing that I was walking home again preparing to
Argue about blue ink or black, TPS reports, expense accounts
Slowly walking down the street; taking my time.
Time's passing is my true lament
Every day I have less energy, less drive to do what I wish
Days melt beneath my etherized body doing things I hate
My whole life condensed to 9 to 5 size coffee spoons
Yearly spending, income taxes, 401k
Life insurance, dental, tax deductible
Infinite problems to ruin my day
Forever arrives too soon they say
Every day, every day, every day.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Revolving Door
He
met them on the stairs. They spoke amongst each other in hushed tones and
pulled uncomfortably at their clothing as they slowly made their way up the
stairs ahead of him. They were a fat, well dressed, elderly couple. The old man
breathed hard as he struggled to take each step while the old woman whispered
and held him by his arm as they walked. The younger man was dressed in black
pants with a white collared shirt and a long black jacket. He seemed to be in
no rush and matched their pace while staying ten steps behind. Their steps were
so quiet that the only audible noise besides their murmuring was from the hum
of the building around them.
The
building was decorated with yellowing wallpaper and dirty blue carpeting that
stretched out like an ocean around him. The air carried a musty tomb-like scent
that was cool and humid. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a small white
piece of paper. He glanced down and quietly read the paper for what seemed like
the tenth time that day, “Gerald Randolph 7341 N. Longview Road #625” He slid
the note back into his pocket and tried to remember what floor they had passed
last.
When
the couple reached the next landing the woman turned to him and said, “Are you
going up to see Gerry?” The younger man tilted his head to one side and
replied, “Yes ma’am, in 625.” The old woman’s eyebrows raised and she said, “Oh,
good! I was worried we made too much food!” The younger man smiled and said,
“Come now, I don’t look that chubby do I?” She laughed as if he had said
something very funny. She said, “Heavens, you’re skin and bones compared to me!
My name is Diane an’ this here’s Chuck.” Diane spoke with an unmistakable Texan
accent and gestured toward the old man who was then leaning on the wall in
order to catch his breath. “My name is John,” The young man chimed in, and
leaned over to take hold of her hand. They shook hands and gave each other a
pleasant “nice to meet you.” Diane cooed softly, “How nice that you came to
visit.” John nodded and said, “It’s just been so hectic lately but I thought,
“Why not today?” You know?” Diane’s
smile turned to a frown, “It has been so crazy lately.” She turned to Chuck and
asked, “You ‘bout ready hun?” Chuck gave a tired grunt and began to walk again.
John turned and followed his new friends up the remaining stairs and out to the
6th floor hall.
The
hall was covered in the same matted down blue carpet and wallpaper as the
stairs. At either end of the hall was a large window covered by wavy glass
block. The windows had no blinds or curtains and the bright white light that
poured in served as the only illumination in the otherwise dark hallway. Three
large silhouettes stepped into the hall and walked as slow as zombies to the railing
that ran the length of the hall. Chuck walked with one hand in a ball to his
chest and the other hand clamped tightly around the rail. As they walked, Diane
filled the air with idle conversation about the weather and taxes and her
recent trip to “Boca.” The three dark figures slowly made their way to the last
door. Waiting for them on the door was a peephole and three gold numbers:
6-2-5.
John
hugged the wall and moved to one side of the door. Chuck took the fist from his
chest three loud knocks at the door. The peephole went dark and a moment later
the door opened. Inside the room was the murmuring of even more people. They
all carried on different conversations about nonchalant topics. Diane began to
speak before she even knew who had opened the door, “ Hey Mary, how you doin’
darlin’?” A woman’s voice from behind the door replied, “Well, we’re doing good
considering. Come on in.” Mary turned around and walked into the small living
room with Chuck and Diane right behind her. Mary was a well dressed blonde
woman in her late fifties. When the doorway was clear John slipped through the
door and closed it behind himself.
“Please
make yourselves comf-” Mary stopped. Her eyes met John’s. In the room were a
dozen elderly men and women wearing suits and old fashioned dresses. They all
carried wine glasses and some crowded around a hospital bed positioned next to
the window. Everyone stopped talking to look at Mary who was focused on a
younger man dressed in black standing in the doorway. Mary looked at the young
man and asked, “Do I know you?” Strapped to the hospital bed were an oxygen
tank, an IV, and a small bank of monitors with flashing lights. John’s reply
was loud enough that it filled the room, “I’m here to see Gerry.” Mary began to
shout, “I know who you are! Who let you in here? You’re not allowed to be
here!” John replied in the same calm voice that he used before, “You invited me
in.”
Everyone
in the room remained perfectly still as John turned and walked over to the
hospital bed. The man in the bed was
frail and wore an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. John said, “Gerald
Randolph, my name is John. I’m an officer of the court and I’m here to serve
you with a few legal documents.” John then reached into his jacket and produced
a small stack of white paper. John placed the paper on the table next to the
bed and turned to leave. Gerry tried to respond but could only gurgle and
cough. John had just opened the door when Mary began to shout again, “Does it
make you feel good to do what you do? He has lung cancer… He’s dying!” John
thought for a moment and said, “We’re all dying.” John slipped through the door
and shut it behind himself. John walked through the hall and down the stairs.
He pushed his way through the building’s revolving door. He stepped into the
warm sunshine, lit a cigarette, and casually walked away.
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