Run, run, run
Blow, blot, repeat
Run, run, run
Blow, blot, repeat
It was a tour de force –
First came lunch – nothing of the heavy sort, as we needed to focus on the long term.
And we hammered out our plan
Five of us identifying our needs, goals, and steps to get there.
Restaurant napkins filled and unfolded, as none of us considered to bring a notebook.
It added to the grassroots thought process that got us here to start with,
And the seed germinated with excitement.
We were reaching for the sky –
We were young, we had dreams, and we knew no limits.
There was a crew at the zoo
Questioning where and who
The monkeys were acting funky
But the ants heard the answer
The lion was lyin’
The birds were turds
The bears were a bear
And really didn’t care
There were a hundred beasts at the feast
But only the ants heard the answer.
The Fact-Finding Mission
A small, gritty piece of the puzzle,
Shouting at the top of my voice.
I ask the questions:
Who am I? Who are we? Why are we here?
I think I even shake a fist at the sky.
I shade my eyes from the sun, looking past the clouds and planets
The day turns to night, and my shouting turns to a whisper.
I am on my knees praying.
I look wide-eyed into the blanket of darkness that shimmers with gem-like pinpoints of light.
At day break, I grab my cup of coffee and blurt my questions again.
I rub my eyes and gaze into the pinkening horizon.
I tweak my ears into prime listening position.
And I wait.
I never wonder how long I will wait.
I never realize that life is passing me by as I wait.
I am steadfast while I wait.
One day, as I lay.
My gray and wrinkled body takes its last breath.
I smile at the face of God before me.
I have finished my race
And God says to me:
Here is your answer.
Back and Forth
Spinning round and round atop wicker canes
and some just spin
The carnie clown runs back and forth
Keeping the plates spinning
The onlookers watch his mad dash
to and fro
and laugh, chuckle, and gasp.
Some have their fingers in their mouths,
some hide their mouths with their hands
some cannot look away.
The spinning plates – so damn many spinning plates
Our crazy spinning plates
As we run to
At 60 feet, 6 inches, the plate looked a long distance from pitcher’s mound.
The batter looked tiny, and the strike zone was even smaller.
But I was used to putting string through the needle’s eye.
I got this.
Wait, did the batter just smile at me?
Stop it, hold on. Get your head straight.
I counted my breaths, just like in training
I leaned back and raised my arms, just like in training
and after I threw the ball, I followed through, just like in training.
And just like in training, the umpire raised his arm and pointed, as he punctuated the air with his voice – “Hee-rike!”
And there is was. I was back and better than ever.
Nothing was going to stop me!
I counted my breaths, just like in training.
Ready to throw my second pitch of the new season.
Hankering for some Mexican food,
we made our way to Little Mexico on the outskirts of town.
The bars and restaurants were lively for Cinco de Mayo,
and I had my fair share of tequila and cervezas.
But it was time to eat, and eat we did!
Pork tortas with avocado,
They rolled us out the door, keeping us away from sharp objects
(lest we explode!)
And on our way back home, we had one more shot –
to calm our bellies.
It was tradition –
A night of hard drinking, dancing, verbal jousts
Looking to get lucky, though it never really happened.
Our group of eight – perfectly matched – four men, four women
Friends for years, relationships intermingled.
We were a regular St. Elmo’s Fire – sorta.
At the Greek restaurant, at three A.M.,
We’d laugh and share stories.
Our voices loud with alcohol.
Trudy, our always waitress, getting our orders just right.
We had our bad times, we had our good times, but the camaraderie at 3 in the morning was perfect for building life-long memories.
And when we left,
We left with full bellies and hearts,
Rarely waking in our own beds.
The desert was scorched, Joshua trees popped from the dirt like pimples.
The catastrophe was witnessed as far as San Bernardino.
There was no joy, there was no happiness, there were no songs of angelic hosannahs.
The carnival of destruction upheld its end of the deal.
Though no one had died – yet – there was a rush at stores for milk sandwiches.
Coyotes howled in laughter.
Wolves moaned with delight.
Dinner will soon be served.