evanescence…

shadows that make bumps in the night

the details
of
my existence
are
fading
some
replaced
with
deliberate
confusion
by
others
an attempt
to
justify
their
fading existence
details
they clearly recall
but
wish not
to
claim
much easier
to
attribute
them
to
someone else
often called
selective memory
but
once
such flaws
are
stapled onto
another’s
existence
it becomes
a form
of
assassination
but
i suppose
it
really
doesn’t matter
since
we’ll all be
forgotten
anyway

 

 

a christmas dinner…

christmas dinner

a holiday tradition
dining
with
my friend
signing about the menu
trying to decide
what
might be
an appropriate
restaurant christmas feast
when
a somewhat shy
and
hesitant waitress
approached our table
clearly uncertain
as to
how to deal
with
two deaf folks
so i spoke
further
confusing her
but
it
assured her
that
one of us
fit
her definition
of
normal
i gave her
my order
now the plot thickened
how
to get my friend’s order
she decided
to write a note
which said
can you read
smiling
my friend
scribed
can you write

thoughts from old nick’s santa….

thoughts from old nick's santa

such
an
old temptation
lust
lying dormant
in most
the whole year long
until
that
ceremonial
religious holiday
when
kissing
coveted
neighbors
and
friends
under
the mistletoe
and
indulgent requests
for
needless gifts
reveals
its presence
in
the human heart
oh
some would say
it’s
harmless frivolity
nothing
more
surely
nothing
abhorrent
to which
i
must reply
is
a lustful
lie

now ain’t that something…

now ain't that something

lord
almighty
someone just pissed
on
the alamo
not
that anyone noticed
but
me
since
it was a child
outside
his mother’s car
in
a parking lot
a parking lot
that’s
not part
of
the formally
christened
tourist hot spot
of
western fable
but
it’s still
hallowed ground
for those
of us
who know
that
the real
alamo
ain’t
just
where they
say it is
and
ain’t
about
what they’d
like
you
to believe
look it up
if
you think i’m lying
but
if i’m lying
child
then
i’m flying