My Dinner With Fletcher

When did you get so old?
     How are you still alive?
How did you get fat?
     What's with the hair?
I wish I could grow that beard
      I always envied that you got Rat
I knew your voice buried in this strange face
      You didn't hesitate to embrace me
I'm working through my demons
       Yeah, and I'm glad you still are
My dad can't believe we are friends
       My mom doesn't like you either

That's ok she hated Linda too
My true loves never get her approval

My dad is sure you should leave the church
Cuz there is no way a Mormon can be cool

He doesn't love your loves either
      Yeah, parents still just don't understand

This is not my typical environment
An Irish dive bar in a ghetto outside Philly
Talking
Just talking
For hours and hours and hours
And now I am better for it
Just knowing
That this could always just happen

Sometimes the moment is just perfect
And you don't answer all the questions
And the wives will be upset
That the details weren't cataloged
That we got lost in the moments
That somehow in six hours of talking
I never explained my job
I never got your apartment number
I didn't fill in the blanks
In the 20 year pause in conversation
Never took one dang photo

Sometimes you don't ever explain

Sometimes
   The moment is so perfect
      You don't take the selfie

POEM - The Day Starts with Water. The Day Starts Good

Yesterday was only rain
Only seemed ready for bed
My mind only able to almost wake up
That type of water

Is the water of sleep and melancholy
It is out of balance
And a soaked and weary wretch was I

Today some balance returned
The sun glanced through
A gentle high cloud covering
Feeling better
My mind could begin
Prepare for possibilities

And with my traveling friends
We wandered on unknown roads
Relaxed
Driving where the whim directed
Turning or not turning
Sauntering

Again we found water
The large purposeful river flowed
Soothing because it was in its place
Taking familiar paths
Contributing to the balance
When all of nature collaborates
And the day started with water
A small tribute paid
And the day started good
Gathering the river's stories to me
Dropping my cares in its flowing current

Start the day unburdened

My pulse flowing

Like the river to the ocean

POEM - Cafe Poland

"It's just past the church"
He explained in vague tones
"An old, low house.
Red trim with no porch
And complex aromas
Invade the inconspicuous street."
An unexpectedly poetic guide
Pontificated freely

The embellishments were appropriate
We were later to verify
But in the overcast pre-arrival world
In which the oratory occurred
It was only the kismet of the moment
Serendipitous coincidence
To find such eloquence
Randomly roaming
That was precious
Taken as a good omen
Intrigue assured

There is comfort in comfort food
It is a warm embrace of familiarity
Even when completely foreign
The rapidly aging matriarch
Within the low, red trimmed aromatic shop
Set the proper tone
And the menu on the wall
Profferred the offerings
Typical Polish dishes
With mostly unfamiliar names
The attached list of components
Igniting a familiar longing
To climb inside and cozy up
To each new and intriguing dish

A selection was made
A table located
A brief wait
A shuffling arrival
Then heavily ladened plates
Gently arrived
A small grin of anticipation
We dig in hungrily
And you begin to understand a people
When you befriend their cuisine
This food spoke of long days
Of food from the land
Of not being able to fussily conjure
Frivoulous, pretty edibles
This was serviceable food
Meant to stick to the bones
Warm the spirits
Embrace and comfort
After a grueling day
Delicious and peaceful
Perogies filled with gentle moments
Cares and concerns easily thwarted
By the power of kraut and potatoes

POEM - Deliberately

Arriving at the pond
Deliberately
Acting on a sign
Found along a wandering snowy path
While lingering
Entranced by frigid water swirling
Perpetual carving
Conical paths
The Basin grows

Years ago Thoreau would visit
So says the placard near by
Today I am at more water
Also tied to Henry David
In relative solitude pausing
Left to wander the banks aimlessly
I’m surprised to find on the rocky shore
Plethora of round, flat stones
Begging to gain brief flight
Before taking a cool dip
I oblige as I am know to do
Fling small stones just so
To skip lightly across the surface
Five or six times at least
Before succumbing to friction
And slipping out of view

Did Thoreau’s skips number as high?
Surely he had to have tried
Found a deliberate moment
Among deliberate living
To liberate a deliberate stone
And found the essential essence
Of a life lived

But had his father taught him
To pick only the flattest and roundest stones
Held just so
In the crook of the index finger
Leaning over
Staying low
Extending the arm out in a wide arch
Flicking the wrist sharply at the end
Again and again
Each stone a little further
Until no more worthy projectiles can be found
Did he discover
In the end
That he had lived

POEM - Doors of Perception

If the weather hadn't been so perfect
The fading light just right
Melting into the deepening gold ocean
If I hadn't been in California
Watching the sunset
Glint and shine
Off the glass fences
Providing unobstructed views
To the denizens of perched cliff dwellings
As the lazy surf rolled silently 

On the wide sandy border far below
Maybe the earth wouldn't have shook
Like San Andrea had a grudge
Against me personally
Cracked my foundation
Rattled my windows
Made me stumble over words
Like a drunken wino on a raucous Saturday bender

I honestly didn't know
Nor was I prepared
For the revelation
Standing there on the warm hardwood floors
While the quirky record shop owner
Journeyed through musical tangents
Spinning the deepest vinyl cuts
All of us riding the same wavelength
Until the rouge wave caught me unawares
Toppled me
Sent me sinking
A new understanding
An open door slamming shut
I had to suddenly come to terms
With the now unavoidable fact
That not everyone likes The Doors
And even more really hate Jim Morrison

And for a moment
I lost my Lizard King
Left exposed as a small child
Self-aware of uncertainties and doubt
Lost and wandering on deaths highway dreaming
The ghosts of my dawning reality 

Crowding my fragile eggshell mind

A moment that seemed an eternity passed
And I was back
Changing the course of conversation
Steering clear of important matters
Loss of faith averted
Replaced by a small perception
The tiniest of revelations
Like the Little Prince and his drawings
Small things tell big stories
So I swerved
Left off talk of gold mines
Weird scenes and dusky queens
Replaced by discussion of equipment and speakers
Turntables and sonic qualities
Made my purchase
Stepped back into the coastal twilight
Resumed my spot in the Soft Parade
Waited till the music was over
As the night turned out the lights

POEM - Seven Years of Rain

Time makes no sense on cloudy days

Does the light tell me it is just past breakfast

Or is it perpetually a quarter till dinner

Is the growl in my stomach sincere

Or the pangs of boredom manifesting in munchies

The unbroken smoky slate bedthrow
Preserves mocking twilight tones

I'm stuck on Venus
And the rain feels listless

Unsure of just how to continue

Day after day

Fulfilling the minimal requirements

Just making the world damp enough

Year after year after year

It is a poignant event for a child in Oregon

To watch "All Summer in a Day"

And you become Margot

The child from earth

Who remembered the sun

Who remembered what it felt like

Trapped with peers who mocked her knowledge

I had come from California

Good friends with the best version of the sun

A joyful orb full of pleasant memories

But this gray Portland metropolis

Mocked my knowledge

And I nearly cried for Margot

Locked in the closet by cruel William

Seeing only reflected light

Through a sliver of a crack

Crushed by the eventual fade

The returning gloom

And it was all my ten year old being could do

To keep composure

Keep the memory alive

Fight against the Williams

Campaigning for the light

Reassuring the world the rain would end

With a weight of seven dim years

Each sunny day exploding

Crammed to breaking 

Lingering in its warm embrace

POEM - We Got Each Other

It was the best fall
The one when we biked everywhere
Because the Suburban got repossessed
Just gone one morning
No surprise there
An open blank canvas for a driveway
But at least there wasn't a payment due
So we celebrated like we'd won the lottery
Had the family over for fried chicken
Mashed potatoes
Corn on the cob
And a huge watermellon
All of it piled into the two seat kid trailer
The one I would strap the youngest kids into
To get them to school
Or take them to church
Or grab a snack from the corner market
And we had each other
Strong and free of a weight lifted in anguish
A car bought to prove we could
Only to prove we couldn't
But we did otherwise
Found so much joy
Making it against the odds
Finding new ways to get around
More time together
Longer conversations
A brighter sky in the waning temperatures
A respite from summer's torment
Just when we needed it
I miss being completely screwed
There is a certain comfort there
You know it can't get much worse
So everything seems much better
And besides
We got each other
Yeah, we always got that

POEM - The Heat of the Moment

The never-fail produce stand
Held unrelenting treasures
In Kaleidoscopic variety
Like some produce themed rummage sale
Hawking delectable enticements

Today we arrived early
Out on an early Saturday morning date
We ditched the kids
Still huddled in their pjs and blankets
To bask in the bright sun
The first pleasant morning this spring
And the veggie stand was in step
Offering intriguing horticultural options
To inspire adventurous agriculture

Amidst the onion sets and tomato plants
Across from seed potatoes
Around the corner from the perennials
Vibrant green leaves caught my eye
Possessed of a familiar shape
Oblong and on the narrow side
Drawing to a delightful point
These must be peppers
But not just any peppers
Upon examination the leaves revealed
A murderer's row of spicy renown
Bearing cautionary monikers
Reaper and scorpion and ghost, oh my!
And I couldn't grab them fast enough
Throwing caution to the wind
And then circling around
And running over it for good measure

The stand never fails
Another treasure rides home
Making our day
Growing our bliss

POEM - What Cherry Coke Means to Me

One more lunchtime
Found me sauntering
Headed for Campus Discounts
A recently captive badger
On self-imposed furlough
From the hallowed halls of Tucson High
Yearning for cheap popcorn
And anything else
As long as it wan't school

Loitering for all I was worth
I got dragged into the riptide
Of passing fellow former inmates
As they swept across the street
Up the stairs over the record store
Through the enticing scent filled doors
Of Grandma Tony's Pizza
To grab a slice
Play the eternally free pinball
Order up a round of cherry Cokes
Made to order
The intoxicating maraschino nectar
Infusing the caramel colored tonic
The libation of truancy
Cure for the common education

POEM - Stopping by Frost Farm on a Snowy Day

All of it was there

Somehow

Sitting in subtle repose

Every turn of phrase

Each vivid scene

Alive and well

Living out the lines

Wrought concerning their very existence 

And I stopping by

I am sure my car wonders

Why I turn down this lane

Clearly marked

In bold letters

Closed for the season

A blockade of snow

Clogging the lane

Undaunted I forge 

Many miles yet to journey

I will let them wait

While here i stand

On sacred ground

Alone 

Grateful for that blessing

His very world surrounding 

A solitary communing 

And then it was time

The moment perfect enough

And parting brought peace

A glimpse of the world

Seen through his eyes

No longer a wonder

How each line flowed with ease

Every word just right

My every step loosed a sonnet

Each breathe a perfect couplet

My heartbeat a clever rhyme

POEM - Baby Mangoes and Cotton Trees

The corner market
Was not on the corner
Perched against the shore
The backwater thoroughfare before it
Acres of rice paddies behind
Lush green endless and beautiful
The narrow embankment a tranquil hub
Advertising juice and seafood
Ensconced in mango trees
The diminutive green undeveloped fruits
Just within reach
Provided a tart green treat
Dabbed with salt
Eaten whole
The impossibility of the adult seed
Forgotten in these immature replicas

The next shore in the journey
Had its own unique trees
And it took a while to understand
Certain of some misunderstanding
Certain that cotton doesn't grow on trees
At least not back home
Must be a mistake because we have only a bush
But soon it was evident
This was not something lost in translation
The intrinsic support confirmed
This was also a source for cotton
With its massive green pods
And the silky soft fiber exposed a revelation
Verification of a newly learned truth

Every day a new something learned
Afloat in a strange land
A slower peaceful land
Of trees of wonder
And backwater cruises
Sun setting amid a humid mist
Smiling faces chew thoughtful
On the warmth of fried bananas
The sweet embodiment
Of the delectable day

POEM - Sips of Soda Water

Twisting in the missing in between of times

Fostering solemn deepening thoughts

Betwixt sips of soda water and lime

The ineffable mysteries bubble and churn

It is this way when we let the moments gather 

Potential energy of fantastic possibilities 

And it forces a daydream 

Wandering thought

A doodle in the margins

A page filled with practice scribbling

Demonstrating contenders for a new way

Of writing the letter ‘A’

For when I am undercover

Spying on the other guys

A perfect chameleon 

Or just closed eyes

Remembering unsuccessfully 

Just exactly how the ocean breezes

Coming off the Pacific 

In late spring visits to California

Felt just so

As they danced across my sun kissed cheeks

Saturated in ocean fragrances

With hints of seaside eateries

In intoxicatingly anesthetic perfection

Teasing out impossible thoughts

Alluring sirens song

Calling me to forget 

Lay here endlessly in sandy Eden

And abandon all pressing matters

Become still as driftwood

Knurled and smooth

Then high tide laps across me

Bumped and knocked

Slowly ocean bound

To drift aimlessly 

Rolling and churning

Sometimes tossed on another shore

Other times dragged back into the fray

Never to act

Only an interesting result

Of wind and water and sand and sun and time

And all of it caught

Between the briefest of thoughts 

An eternity of results

Bubbles in soda 

Slipped slowly 

With just a hint of lime

POEM - You Can Quote Me

Whenever I draw my mouth like this
Give a look like this
And drop some sassy knowledge
About the latest gossip
Buddy gets some props
A parenthetical quote
In physical comedy form

And when I get into a discussion
Deep and philosophical
With a random stranger
I hear Fletcher’s voice
Mirror his action
Play the game he taught me

My inner salesman
With the winning charm
And engaging small talk
That person I call Barz

When I am kind and I listen
Think about my actions
About others first
And the happiness of the less fortunate
I am Linda all the way

When I do what I should
And I look at the situation
Think before I act
Keep a cool, even head
And act with maturity
I am Merv for a few minutes or more

And sometimes I am lunatic
And odd and queer and peculiar
A frustrating cunnundrum
Of blurring contradictions
Where I take all of the quoted personalities
Throw them in a metaphysical blender
And pour out a tall drink of me
A little bit of everything
Rearranged and adapted
In a mostly awkward way
Writing my story
Borrowing heavily
From past matters
Many footnotes
A large and growing works cited
Forward yet to be assigned
Dedicated to my lovely wife
Who put up with me all these years
And to all the people along the way
Who didn’t trip me up
But lent a hand
Gave me an ingredient
Became a part of the whole