SEEIN' BABY THROUGH is a lyrics for Hard Times, when it's pretty much at bottom...like Richard Farina wrote: been down so long down looks like up to me...RIP, Richard...you could'a/would'a written this at times in your life, besides...I guess you'd have to call this The Blues!....

SEEIN' BABY THROUGH

Don't wan'ta come down on you hard, Baby
Jus' wan'ta see you through
These been some gol'darn awful times, Baby
Jus' wan'ta see you through
You can hold on to me, Baby
Way I hold on to you

We've been clear out of dough, Baby
It's hard to make our bread
We've been so out of dough, Baby
Can't even see ahead
Can't even start this oven, Baby
We're so bad in the red

Give me your hands and heart, Baby
An' I'll give you mine
Give me a little trust, Baby
All this will take is time
We got a good thing goin, Baby,
Jus' somewheres down this line

Don't you be jumpin' no freight train, Baby
Jus' cuz the sheriff's near
Don't you be givin' way the whole store, Baby
Jus' cuz you feelin' fear
We ain't about to run, Baby
We'll make it free and clear

I got a couple of bucks here, Baby
I'll give them all to you
If I had millions of them, Baby
I'd give them all away to you
Let's see that smile I love so, Baby
Can't let my Baby be so blue

Repeat First Verse - at last line, whisper to music:
OK, ready to jump aboard, Baby?
Let's go, Baby...
Let's go on Home.....

NOW THAT I'M OLDER is one lyrical response to a younger person in my life who keeps on provokin me. I'm really gonna answer with silence. til then, this'll do...gracious!

NOW THAT I'M OLDER

Now that I'm older
I really can't say
That I'm any bit wiser
Or know any Way
To do this life better
How I could be brave
How I didn't hurt Folks
That I jus' could've saved

Cuz Older ain't Wiser
An' Older's seen Everythin'
But jus' ain't learned Nothin'
Of much use a'tall
So saddle that Mare for me
The one who's at pasture
We got lots in common
'Bout takin' the fall

This Life's in a hurry
To grow up from younger
To be some Adult an'
To get in the swing of it
Been there and done that
Is all you can say for it
Been here and done now
With songs that I sing

I've sung Life and wrote Life
An' taught Life and nursed it
An' loved many people
An' let many go
You can't teach this old dog
Any new tricks no more
Ain't really needin'
To change this sweet flow

An' you can't really
Bad-mouth me ever and never
Cuz I ain't available
Ever again an' I'm
Gonna go Home soon all
My my own fine self
Takin' no sass from those
Who ain't stood where I've been

Know I really ain't bitter
I've loved Life so hard and well
Don't want to leave Life
For no wheres in sight
Heaven and Hell are here
I've been through both of 'em
I'll keep lovin' Life
All my days all my might

WAITIN' FOR THE LIGHT TRAIN is a real Train Song - probably my first that actually has the clickety-clack on the rails in it. I like it an' I hope you do too....

WAITIN' FOR THE LIGHT TRAIN

I'm jus' waitin' for the Light Train
The one I wan'ta ride upon
Waitin' for the Light Train
To bring me to some Glory

Leaving from the Darkness
From this windy Station
Where all the doors be creakin'
An' callin' me back Home

Ain't ever been so hung-up
Ain't ever felt so lonely
No body here to regret
No tears of sweet goodbye

Just leavin' on some Light Train
If ever it will come here
To give me rails to ride out
To give me wings to fly
___________________

CHORUS

You can betcha tell a Light Train
By the Heaven in it's headlights
Got an engineer all smilin'
An' whistlin' clear Hellos
You can certain tell a Light Train
By the way it has no schedule
You just gotta hop that Train fast
Be jus' goin' where it goes
_____________________

Las' time I took a Light Train
I was just a poor boy
Runnin' from an old farm
Runnin' far away

Mom and Pop got hit hard
An' so I came back home tho
I never made no difference
No matter what they say

An old farm's jus' an old farm
Jus' nothin' grows up right there
An' animals do poorly
Folks jus' cannot make it well

So someday it jus' hits ya
You gotta leave or die there
Cuz there's some heaven somewheres
An' you're jus' real done with hell
___________________

CHORUS - X 2 -
on second time, repeat the last line 3 or so times, while slowin' down the rhythm....
___________________

SILVER SPOONS TO OTHERS is short-story musing on changes in life...who 'gets' who...no whys or wherefores...just Change....

SILVER SPOONS TO OTHERS


she was born for sure with a silver spoon in her tiny little pink
mouth. not a golden spoon. but a pretty good beginning. doctor and
nurses doing all the right stuff. Mama and Daddy being both there and
both so intent on her perfection and her being born just right. all
warm and no pain. all breathing and being held and fed at once. all
milky and soft and cuddles. it was an omen of sorts that her gramma
was rich and her daddy was rich and her mom was rich. all that money
meant silver-spoon life for sure. even if she was ugly and an idiot.
which she was not. she was special and in a special country where
peace was bought at the great price of poorer and yet able young men who
would give their lives for her when called upon to do so. this was
another fortune - of which she was not yet aware. but she would be -
yes. she would. her boss would tell her some day far away. how she
didn't even have to work. but that he had been in the services and
almost been killed. to make sure people like her would have their
wonderful country's way of life intact. so that she could work for a
little bit and then marry very well. that's how their country went.
she hadn't understood much about that when he said it. surely she did
not understand anything about what it cost to have a life like hers
when she was a cute little thing. she thought all the world was just
like her world. no one told her any different.

her parents divorced when she was five. so she knew what was going on.
life had been great. she adored her dad. she loved her mom the way she
loved her own little self. she wasn't worried about money. they both
seemed to always have money whether they were together or no. it was
the lines on their faces: all taut and strained. made them look so
unhappy. not beautiful the way they had been: they looked older. they
used to laugh a lot with her. now they smiled tenderly. which was
nice: but, not especially fun. she was a child who liked to have fun.
quite a bit: this would always be part of her life. anxious about
being happy. wanting to be happy all the time. redefining her self all
the time. all to be happy. she was driven about that even as this
little kid. trying to tell jokes and make her adults smile. she was
never going to have any siblings or even close cousins to play with.
so the adults were supposed to be entertaining. when they weren't: she
pestered them. but sweetly. so they'd smile. tell her a story. take
her out on the swing. spoil her a bit. she would always equate love
with being spoiled nicely. even if she had to push for it: she was to
be the center of attentions. of everybody she wanted to pay attention.
not the people she didn't want. that was for sure!

I've noticed that adults are a lot like they were as kids around five
years old. really think that's true. if they were little brats, then
they are larger and more annoying brats when over twenty. forever. in
one variation on the theme or another. truly. think about it. it's not
unusual to see that child in her face...or in his eyes...they're still
there. fighting for what ever it was they had to fight for when they
were just little folk. she was much as she had been at five. beautiful
in her way. pleasing people all the time...to get what she needed.
attention. which she called love. she didn't know much about love.
thought she did tho. felt affection. sometimes felt sexual. or sexy.
she wasn't sure which. sometimes felt love for someone she felt sexy
around. it didn't seem to matter. she was pretty and rich. and guys
loved pretty and rich. or said that they did. told her they did. they
were happy around her. or seemed to be. she was less anxious about it
all. sure of herself. happy with her self. pleased with her self. how
she looked. how she felt. thought she was happy. thought she was going
to always be happy. felt good about her future: figured she'd be
married right after school. have a couple of babies. go back to doing
what ever she wanted after they got into school. having done her duty
and all....

that was why she dropped her "first love" of course...she was too young
to know the 'real thing' when she felt it. thought it just was some
dangerous sex feelings that could lead to pregnancy. which feelings
she was actually having. because he was the one who was meant to be
the father of her kids - her one true love for all of her life. it had
been ordained by the gods. this is true. I'm not joking around here.
it is very possible that there is only one person in the world who is
close enough to the way you are in the world: and this person and you
will be the Best for the other. it's more than possible that we all
miss this person while on the high seas of life. mostly we pass them
by on purpose. often still tho: by accident. or accident of not having
enough experience to know what's in front of our very psyches. we
mostly make mistakes in this area of life: I've noticed this. most of
us don't get this one right. she was no exception. he wasn't going
anywhere: that's what her mom said. where ever 'anywhere' was. which
was not described. besides: she was too young. this was too soon. she
wanted not to settle down so soon after high school. not to get
trapped in the same old place with the same old people: to see a bit
of the world. going on with him meant she'd have to give up all that
adventure....

the first 'adventures' she went out to live through were pretty silly
ones...she went after rich men. or men she thought were rich. she had
decided that life was not well-lived unless you got taken-care-of. it
didn't matter whether she finished college or got a great job or
whatever. what was important was: nail a rich guy down. get him to
marry you. have his kids. then: no matter what: he's support you while
the kids were growing up. because that was what her dad had done. it
was something rich people did. part of being respected. and - of
course - because they could: on account of being rich and all. then
she could figure out what else to do with life. maybe there would be
more to do. maybe not. she decided to start with doctors or
lawyers...see if there was any 'old money' around. the fact that she
had often been bored in social situations with rich folk didn't bother
her one whit. there was a price to pay for having money. that was that
rich people were often - what she called - "beige": lacking color. too
clean. no smells to excite her. no touches that would make her knees
go 'jelly' with desire. just pleasant stuff. not hard to manage...

the first invite was from a doctor who lived on a houseboat. he had
lots and lots of money. he was into new-age medicine stuff. he had a
huge practice in the city. the houseboat was romantic. she was invited
by a friend of hers who was a friend of his: he had noticed her. it
was all about brunch on the houseboat with him and a couple of dozen
'close' friends...he showed her around the houseboat. she admired the
galley. she made the huge mistake of bragging about her cooking. the
bragging came from having a glass of wine. a whole glass. she rarely
could take around three sips of wine without getting pretty silly. her
judgement went right out the porthole. that was the truth. so here she
was: making omelets that were like hockey pucks. stupid. twenty stupid
omelets later: she knew it was over. everybody ate them: because there
was nothing else to eat. he was very kind. the way doctors are to
patients or something. she cried the whole way home in her friend's
car: out of embarrassment. waste of time. she didn't want to waste any
more time.. she was getting into her late twenties. been long enough
at the fair and so on....

The next guy was a wood-worker. his family was very rich tho. he was
darling. too young for her - in a way - but smitten by her pretty
conventional good looks. he was one of the easy to manage ones. only
she blew that one too. she sweetly tried to serve his dad some wine at
a family party she got to go to with him. the room went silent. on
account of his dad was an alcoholic. no one ever served him alcoholic
drinks. not ever. it was sort-of a family rule. she had been told that
before the party. twice. having had a little bit of wine herself: she
forgot. her wood-worker was very nice. just like she was a mistake
best not discussed in nice company. he didn't call her again. she
already knew he wouldn't call her again...things weren't going too
great....

so then there was the oil company executive. his dad was great. he
was a naturalist in the deserts in Arizona... he traveled around collecting
rare cactus photos and data and all. fascinating man. woke them every
morning to go out into the desert sunrise to see the animals and the
cactus blooming all while it was still cool enough to see these
wonders. the executive went out once. she went out with his dad every
day. they became close friends. the executive whined that she liked
his dad better than him. she did. but she didn't say so. not all at
once. not so overtly...his mother got jealous then: called her a
'tramp'. which was silly. his father was just a nice old guy:
flattered by her going out into the desert with him... they flew back to
the bay where they both lived. he asked her to marry him. he told her
he wanted to wrap her up in a box with a ribbon and keep her forever.
she thought about a movie she had seen by a guy who had locked a girl
up to keep her on account of he was a butterfly collector or something
like that. she decided this one was a no-go as well. she declined.

I don't know why I'm so preoccupied with looking at the lives of rich
folk. I'm not a rich folk. this lady's story fascinates me because we
have had a lot of the same choices. we made a lot of the same
decisions. yet she didn't have to make these decisions this way. it's
strange: she could have done more with her money then to wait to snag
more. yet that's what she did. finally she met the 'right one'. he
cared about money the way she did. he didn't want many kids to get in
the way. just one son would do. a daughter if she really wanted
another one. otherwise they were going to travel a great deal. see the
world and all. from a rich person's perspective: just enough adventure
not to get in the way of comfort and good food. and safety. of course...
she would be expected to keep a good home. a great home. with help. of
course. and not complain about any hours he would not account for.
those would be his business. always. she didn't have to account for
all of hers either. every tiny thing would be perfect. because Money
can insist upon such a thing. listening to her talk was wonderful. I
could not imagine not 'having to work'. not outside of the home.
arranging travel and parties and dinners and your two kid's lives. no
worries about money. ever. she saw this all as her due. was
comfortable about the whole arrangement. very pleased. he was too.

I went to that wedding. it was perfect in every single way. one
slightly drunk guest was removed quietly and taken home with a nice
covered tray of food. by taxi. this was class. really class... I was not
surprised when her new husband gave me his number. he said my stories
were "fascinating". he would like to take me to lunch. he could
introduce me to some editor. or publisher. something like that. maybe
we could meet on his boat. I didn't think twice about this. mind you:
she is my friend. but hey: she has an 'arrangement'....everything is
happening a little sooner than I expected. but I'm middle-class and a
tiny bit prarochial. what do I know about how the more sophisticated
folk behave: that's right: not a thing. you know: I am willing to
learn. just a little. somehow I think I'm getting a better deal than
she is. for awhile I can play around with these people. but I'd never
marry one of these guys. for one thing: I hate paying too much for
anything: even for a 'perfect' future. for another: I know exactly
what real love is. and this isn't it. and: I know real love is worth
more than all this jazz: his. and hers. at least I think I do...

It's months later now. so much can change in a life...if you're not a
prude and you open to opportunity and all...

sitting in my deck chair on that yacht: I be thinking. yeah: this is
the life. the sun shines like gold.... he ruffles his hands over my hair
like a warm breeze... o I do hope I won't let myself be tempted to
take her route through life...as if I had that choice!....but for now:
I have what she has. and more than she wants. and that - for now - is
enough for me...I mean: why wouldn't it be?...I mean: isn't this The
Life?...isn't it?...

wonder how I got here from there -

wonder where I'm goin'...

golden spoons to some mouths...

silver spoons to others....

JOHNNY, I HARDLY KNEW YA is a revision of an older story - a fiction within a non-fiction...close to truth, but not real enough...just as the relationship here is and was, long ago....

JOHNNY, I HARDLY KNEW YA...

This is a fiction, of course. It really is...it's based a bit on reality. and then it isn't. and then it is. mainly...it's a lesson in how much room the heart has for extra people...it turns out: not a lot, if you have a lot tied up in a full-fledged True Love..then there is less time and space left then you may think there is....

Johnny was an odd fellow, really...he was from Tasmania. his father was Australian and he was long gone. had left the family to go to the United States years before. took Johnny's sister Sally with him, who was only three at the time. his mom, Lucy, had all sorts of agencies and police and so on look for him for years. nothing had turned up ever. which seemed almost impossible... Johnny wished he had taken him instead. it would have been better for Sally and for his mom. it would have been better for him, for sure. he was useless to his mom. she had never been very fond of him. she and taught him many things about life. how to do the few things you have to do to survive. how to be a fair and reasonable man. best she could. but she did not love him. so it was not possible for her to teach him about love and how to love. Johnny was his father's likeness, vulnerable and sweet for a man child...and he hadn't lost that, it seemed, ever...so he needed that love and thought he was destined to look for love and to love forever...a romantic, of course, down to the bone....

Since he didn't do well in school and was a rebel as well, he never learned how to use his mind in ways that would make him money. left school at age fifteen...never went into formal schooling again....
he had a good mind. an original mind... he took to writing down his thoughts and bits and pieces of things he read. Shakespeare. cliches and sayings. anything that took his fancy. it was hard to follow his writings. they weren't organized like you learn in school. they were the blatantly honest musings of an uneducated and strikingly sensitive mind and heart...the running river of a spirited soul...they were one-of-a-kind...with no 'kind' to match them....his language was a mix of down-under and a pidgin sort of English. he came to the United States with these musings. and with his two honest hands and his good un-academic mind...he could do other things....that's how he began his way. he came to be a guy who moved in the World of Oil and Natural Gas...the World of Energy...which is a huge world indeed....

He was widowed, I soon learned. and had lost a child, too...a son?....I didn't ask right away...it wasn't the kind of thing you ask right away...he seemed eager to talk otherwise...but when the time came...he actually didn't....it was clear it was going to take a while to get to really know him...he had a lot to write about what he was like...all of it very positive...but no explanations for how he got to where he was. who he was. why a great guy like him wasn't with anybody since his 'Loss' - nothing about that Loss - why he was even in Southern Cal....just a great deal about how he needed a woman to grow old with, and how I could be the one....all too much too soon. too full of need. without explanation... intriguing...but still, neurotic enough to put up a tiny red flag...not a big one...he was too sincere and open to be harmful, somehow...and his written-English was limited enough to make it unclear how much of what he wrote was just hype. how much was real. how much was need. was there any con in it all....what was he really looking for....hard...very hard to tell....

I certainly was not sure why I wanted to know him....I was very, very happy with my Man...who, tho, lived 1800 miles away...who I only saw a few days every four to six weeks...he was planning to move out to be with me by winter...and that all, of course, takes time....I wasn't exactly lonely...lots of people around....but I was intrigued with others from my past or new people...because I was alone in the house - and I wasn't used to being alone in a house...it didn't feel 'full' enough at home....so I filled it up a bit with other people....natural, maybe, given my past being so full of people at home...

then, there was his writing...it was so intriguing. so singular. so original...I wanted to encourage that writing. because I enjoyed reading it so much...I will be sorry that I did not get to know the writer in this man. I can't imagine that any one else will see him as I did...a very talented writer...with no context to believe that...to see that...to know that...to follow up with that true thing: he is a very unusual writer. an original...lost to even his own self.....it is a sad thing....

Johnny was from another time and space...a fictional character, in more than one way...and I needed to move my fiction writing on to other people and spaces...so I included him in again...not being that sure why...except to write this fiction, here and now...for much of this is fiction that I am writing right now...but, still...I'm using his impact as a person on 'paper'...I even told Johnny that I was 'using' his basic personality, as I understood it in the here and now, in a short story...I am always honest about such things, if I remember to be so...and, to have another presence in my otherwise empty home...a need that I was filling when ever I could...this was tempting...'talking' with him would relieve some of the anxieties I had about being alone in the late evenings...about wanting my guy to be with me so much.....and...

Johnny was so 'Different'... I needed new ideas about how people live life...he seemed to live life so differently than every one else I knew....either he was the among the most open souls I had ever met, or, from some dark place deep in him, he needed to con women into thinking he was that open and vulnerable and ready to be loving....finding out which Johnny was the real Johnny was going to be an adventure and a good friendship at best...or a lesson in life that would make a great story, at worst...

it was important to keep a safe distance for a long, long time...maybe indefinitely...and see what he would do or say, after his volcanically 'open' introductions to his very self...if that all was his real self....I didn't like feeling cynical...but he was so overwhelming, that reality checks needed to taken all the time...only, I had a feeling he could easily outmaneuver me in that department...time would tell...as usually happens...

I had only a few emails to begin with...but I saved some of them...lost the others...and began this story...tried for a "chat" first...which didn't happen, tho it's time had been planned...now I was already thinking...well, since I told him we can only try for a friendship...he's really already losing interest, and is emailing some other stranger-lady, or maybe a lady he knows better, to interest them in the True Love business that is right there in the top of his mind and heart and needs as a person...for what ever reasons...I wrote him late, after finishing my usual "Scribble Time" on 'Compose' on my laptop - suggesting times that we could 'chat' in the future...since we had 'somehow' missed our scheduled 'chat' time....and waited....

By now, the red flag could be seen clearly through the smoke and dust that ,naturally, usually obscures the horizon: that on-line 'friendships" are iffy things at best, and horrible things at worst. I know all the stories. we all know all the stories. I did check. he does live in the rather up-scale 'Village' near LA where he writes that he lives...he does exist. he is a contractor in the area. I can't find any standing ovations about him. but there's no police record either. forgive me, Johnny, for checking up on you like that. but a girl has to be safe, that's for sure....tho I am hardly a girl...and I should know better anyway...what ever that means....are there no good reasons to explore friendships over cyberspace? is is all pretty stupid? am I just filling some psychological space that could use a good dose of expensive therapy?....probably all those questions are bogus too...that's my answer to that...so...onward....

It turns out that Johnny was either preoccupied all of the time...or was simply absent-minded...or didn't really understand English (tho he said it was his 'first lingo')...or just didn't understand what I was writing...because we didn't connect when I thought we would...and then would suddenly connect from out of the blue...it was very strange...he would call me 'dear', although he didn't know me really at all...then he would say he would 'chat' at a certain time and he would not be there...but he would be there when I didn't expect him to be...then he'd write to call him at a certain time...I would verify the time...and he would not be there...then he'd say he would call...but he would not...then, later...he would....he always seemed to be coming out of a fog...but, probably, I was the one in the fog...

I did ask when his wife and son had died. it had been seven years. they had died in an automobile accident. that's all he would say. when I asked if he had anyone 'special', he just wrote back, "I'm single"...twice. he told me he was a private contractor for an oil and gas cartel. he had traveled to forty states and he had traveled to thirty countries. he said he could hardly remember all of them. he liked to travel. but his job was stressful. he was working on a 'proposal' while he was chatting with me...he was very abrupt and preoccupied. but, when I asked him if he was sure he wanted to continue talking with me...he asked me, "why wouldn't I want to continue?"...goodness, Johnny...the reasons are few...but they are there....why aren't we connecting?...
it all seemed doomed, in the oddest of ways...I was determined to find out what was behind this strange and compelling fellow....

so I tried to call as he asked. he was not available. I got on line. he said he wanted to call me. I gave him my number again...I could see him like through a telescope you've turned the other way...so the person is getting smaller and smaller....then he said he'd call in a little, since I had a phone call coming in...then hours went by...
so my boyfriend called...going through a very hard time...he was...well...that's all his own and difficult business...anyway...a very, very hard time...I realized how much I was with him...I realized that no other contacts were helping here...I was just with him. all the way...I didn't want to fool around with wishy-washy far-away friendships....I just wanted to be with my far-away, non-too-perfect-but-perfect-for-me Fellow. with all his imperfections. I loved him truly. I didn't need or want Johnny. But I did...I do...need and want My Dear Man....

So, I emailed Johnny and thanked him for trying for the friendship, but that I 'got it': some things just don't happen. others truly happen. my boyfriend, who is not a boy, and I, who he calls his 'girl', but I'm not a girl...are made for each other completely. we are born to be together. we have always been together. no friendship can fill the space, even for a little time, that we fill together...no one else is there. that is just the way it is....

So, Johnny. you were supposed to be a new friend who would divert me when I felt I had been too lonely and was missing my dear Man too much...you weren't that person...but, of course, no one ever could be...my heart is completely wrapped up in this one person...who has failed himself for twenty years. who wants to reclaim himself now. whose side I am standing on with great attention, that is truly not wandering away at all...I didn't want to be afraid of loss. but of course I am...we all are. maybe you are too...or maybe you're just numb to loss because of what happened to your wife and child...maybe all the writing you did is to tell yourself you are still alive...it looks like I will never be the lady who will ever know...if any lady ever does...

in the end, he was angry. he left a message yelling at me that I needed professional help, because I did not know what I want...I didn't answer the message, and blocked any further calls...there would be no tidy closure to this odd opening - one that opened nothing, anywhere, for anybody at all....

bless the dating services...they give every one a chance to write down who they think they are. who they hope they are...who they hope some one will see who will see right through them to the person who fears being lonely. even if he can't say that. even if she won't admit that. for fear of being seen as needy. of being wimpy. of being 'mush'....when all they are really being is...human....Johnny was the only person I ever contacted through the dating services. it failed because...well, no reason...really...many friendships are just not meant to be....

Ah, Johnny. it is hard to say goodbye to some one you never even heard. who never heard my voice either. some one who came over sound and air and cosmic rays. who almost opened another door and then did not open the door at all...who called me 'dear' because he needs to say "dear" to someone. who is handsome and does well in life and is lonely enough to write and write about how he feels about himself. hoping a woman will see... who can go into his old age with him and just love him as he is...just as my Dearest of Men wants me to do...which I am certainly going to do...because I love my Own Dear Fellow so completely....

No more diversions. no new heart-connections...just My Man and Me, holding on through thick and thin, through to our ends...which will come soon enough...since we are well into our sixties....

Good night, Johnny. you were almost an episode. almost a short story. almost a pen pal...almost a friend....

Johnny. I hardly knew you....

TOPOGRAPHY OF ONE HEART BLUES is lyrics from reading the word 'topography' a couple of times in one day...and then hearin' a woman say to a cowpoke-sort-of-dude at a bar, "Well, it has to do with the topography of the heart"...and I thought he would answer like this, if he knew her quite well....

TOPOGRAPHY OF ONE HEART BLUES

The mountains you crawl up - Valley fall-downs...you ain't
Never gonna get this here 'Topography'....
Words with no meanin's - except to dig a hole
In my poor dang-broken heart's 'Topography'!

You got big words to express your smart ol' self -
You teach this poor cowboy every day...
But when I try to kiss your 'topography',
You suddenly ain't got one word to say!

Baby, I ain't sayin' I'm too dumb to understand ya -
But I just ain't got no use for this 'Topography' -
When it comes to matters of the heart, sweet Baby,
I think I truly know all its Geography...

An' you can't seem to see that the lay of the land
Is I love you - and you're gonna get it wrong:
If you think that usin' big ol' words and talkin'
All night thru, is gonna change the lay of this song...

Cuz I ain't no school boy - I'm jus' an old cowpoke -
An' I usually don't have the time of day
For folks analyzin' feelings like they all was
Some 'topography' that you can run away from - or stay...

Give me your kiss, Baby - I'll give you back my hands -
I'll lead you cross this land to where you wanna be...
Cuz I got a fine ranch and trees and water and the stars above
An that's all that we need of this 'topography'...
All we really need of some 'topography'....

MERCIFUL is the oddest short story I've written...which is sayin' something, for certain...it's not entirely about how it actually Was in the sixties in Small Town, Illinois, but it's truly close to the Psychology of those times....of the times 'inside', for sure....

MERCIFUL


There are women who tear at a man's soul like some sort of witch in an angry dream, but Joey wasn't having anything like that in his life. He told every friend who would listen that he was after getting himself a Merciful Woman. one who would be a True Friend. one who would be good to his mind and heart and body, too. Everyone laughed at him. You're quite a dreamer, his best friends told him. you're a fool and worse, those who didn't know him well laughed. he was easy to laugh at and with...every one's favorite clown....

It was no laughing matter, tho, that he started making eyes at Sara Sue Wiseman. First, he was a half-breed - Navajo/Irish to be exact. and she was White-Jewish-breed, with blond hair and blue eyes to boot... just in case you'd miss the contrast between her and half the student body in their high school. He had spotted her across a crowded gym floor and all at the Homecoming Dance, which he had crashed, anyway. It had been the old love-at-first-sight mess that can plague a man all his born days if it is not returned. she had not noticed him at all, naturally....Also again I mention, she was Jewish. Wiseman.

There were three Jewish Families in town. they had to drive to the other town in the valley, which had a Temple, for holidays and stuff. no one really noticed them except that they didn't put up Christmas trees and all. only, every body knew. the first thing his mama said when he mentioned what a fine person Sara Sue was, was her being Jewish and not doing up Christmas. It really irritated him when his parents did that. somehow, it made him feel smaller, tho they were saying the folks they were telling mean things about....that those people were the bad ones. didn't make sense. prejudice. every one had it but him, apparently. that's how it felt to him, anyway. It was the nature of the Midwest town he lived in, for every one to say at some time, well, I'm not racist, but....always the 'but...'

So, that was one problem. another was that she didn't seem to see him even when he smiled nicely at her. Once she laughed at one of his jokes in class and he nearly burst with happiness...other times she didn't seem to hear him, tho all the teachers did and he was labeled as a 'distraction' in class, come report card time.

He tried three times to hint around that he wanted to go out with her. Nothing even crossed her face. she either missed the gist entirely, or just didn't want to hear his asides about how nice it would be to do this or to see that movie or what-have-you. There were only three things to do in their little river town...movie. drive-in-eatery. hang out by the river. no nibbles on those. and, he wasn't asked to the same parties she was asked to. that's for sure. so that was out as a way to break the ice...things were getting really icy...on all fronts....Joey was definitely about to give up, when...

Mrs. Williams in Social Studies began her Diversity Week kick....every year she headed into trying to improve every single student's consciousness in the prejudices-department, by insisting that all the students write about their ancestors and find stuff to be proud of in their family histories. then every one had to share all that with every body else in every class she held. the last day, every one brought food from their 'people' to share at lunch. it was embarrassing and dragged out too long...and brought out the worst racist insults from just about every culture, race, and religious persuasion in the whole school....not good. every student was always really happy when Diversity Week was over and done. then they could all go back to their little cliques and trash every body else different than them all day if they wanted.

This year, Mrs. Williams was way into Native Americans and kept up on Joey until he admitted Trail of Tears ancestors and so on. he wanted to do the Irish side, but she'd have none of it.When he told his Ma about what Mrs. Williams wanted of them, she was not happy about it. it wasn't that she was ashamed. it was that she was private. like all city Indians. she felt it was no body's business where she had been raised. the reservation - the 'res' - was a past completely different than small town in a Midwest river valley. her husband didn't want attention drawn to her either. he sometimes even said she was 'black irish' and then would laugh, even though that had nothing to do with her color. which was a honey brown. not 'red skin' at all. here cheekbones were all flat and her nose a bit flat too.her hair straight black. but not that much of a give-away. she could have been Mexican or Chicana too. and there were lots of people with one-white'-and-one-'latino' marriage in their families. well...she was private. that was that.

Joey tried to get some information from his Dad too, but no-go there either. Chicago Irish. that's all I know. right off the boat. from Dublin. Catholic. working class. not exactly the social-Irish types. more the very quietly drunk, angry sort of Irish. also very private. very closed-mouthed. his Dad had no idea what his ancestors had been like. Irish. that's all he would say. Joey was feeling actually depressed.

He had always been a happy kid. but now it was pretty clear to him. he had come from nobodies. the girl he wanted to date more than anybody in the whole school thought he was a nobody. that was all clear now. he was a half-breed, and both halves were from nowhere and had gone nowhere. no one was ever going to care about him more than his parents. and they were not the affectionate-type themselves...so he made a big decision. he was going to tell the truth at school in that stupid class. every very-short bit of both sides of his history. and how he didn't want to be ashamed, but in a way, he was. how he wished he could be all proud and be somebody. somebody every body would think was something...really something. some one girls would want to date. guys would want on their teams. how that wasn't going to happen any time soon. not at all, probably. then he would sit down. every body would laugh at him. or look away. embarrassed. talk about what a loser he was. later with their friends.

It got to be his turn faster than he expected. every one had been completely bored so far. same old ancestor stories. same old comments about tolerance and respect and stuff from Mrs. Williams. same old gang signs flashing from the Black Gang and the Latino Gang and the Irish Gang and stuff. same old giggling from the girls at the stupid traditional dresses the real geeks and nerds would wear to be all authentic and stuff. up his turn came....

Joey told every one about his mother. then he told every one about his father. then he told about how he felt about his pathetic self. he spared them nothing. and he spared himself nothing. the room was actually very, very quiet. even Mrs. Williams didn't say anything. Sara Sue Wiseman showed nothing on her face. actually, no one showed a thing on their faces. nothing at all. then something weird happened in Joey's life...Sara Sue Wiseman raised her hand, and asked, can I say something too? Sure he said. She smiled a really sad smile. I have the same story as you, she said.

I have my Mom. she's Jewish. my Dad is Catholic. my Mom won't tell me anything about our ancestors. she says they were from Poland. most of them died in concentration camps under the Germans in WW 2. that's all she'll say. Past is best forgotten, she says. she is not happy. my mom is very private. and not happy. and my Dad says Poland was no better for the Catholics and Pollacks are just working people. nothing special. Especially Polish Catholics from Chicago married to Polish Jews from Chicago. Oil and Water. that's what he says. they're both Water and Oil. can't mix. can't get away from the other.

Then Sara Sue Wiseman turned to the whole class and said, you all are big fat mixes of people mostly, right. nothing special there. all we got? we got that we are Americans. We are all America has for the future. tomorrow we can make it over how our parents made it. but we can't be tripping one another up. we got to all get there...we all got to get there together. The USA is not about our ancestors. it's about not being who your parents are. about being your own generation. then she stopped. embarrassed. the whole class was embarrassed for her. and for themselves. the bell rang. good old saved by the bell.

It wasn't like falling in love right off the bat for her. she felt kind of responsible for him, is what it was. it was embarrassing for him. she'd come up and look at him so earnestly and say, are you OK? how are you doing? stuff like that. he'd make some joke and go off with his friends fast. she's got the hots for you, one of them laughed at him. no, I'm just her social studies project, I'd laugh back. help the half blood. give him charity. really, he wanted her so bad it hurt. he wanted just to take her hand and be walking home from school without saying a word. he couldn't even think farther than that. that would be enough. really. her girlfriends looked at him like he was a puzzle in their world that had fallen out of the sky. what was he doing in their faces like that? why was their friend starting to like him, or whatever Sara was doing...it was a puzzle to everyone...

And they were Seniors. the world was just about to open up before them. they were told that 24/7...that felt bad, too. every one said they were going to go to college...only some said they'd have to work full-time and go to night school...and others were going into their uncle's business or something...and then there was Joey and his friends. who were probably going to be drafted. since they weren't going anywhere fast....they all said they were. but they didn't have any plans that weren't just mouthing off....Joey knew Sara Sue was going to Chicago to go to the University. That was like hearing she was going to the moon. she could survive there fine, apparently. but he'd run out of air pretty soon... not that any one had asked him if he even wanted to go to college. everyone just assumed he was going to work for his dad at the gas station like always...and, in fact, that was what he was going to do....dumb to think otherwise....

He was sure it was a practical joke when he got passed a note between English and Algebra 2 classes....the note said, she's really got the hots for you. you should ask here out if you want to get her for the prom." he was floored. hope and fear and great unhappiness flooded him at the same time like punches to his gut. it must be a joke...but then, the next day. she passed him in the hall and handed him a piece of folded paper...inside was her phone number. her real number. which he happened to know because he had looked it up in the phone book. surprised to find it wasn't unlisted. so, she really wanted him to call. unless she was in on the joke. Joey's trust was not a strong suit in this game of chance he was playing...he had good reasons. he knew that. and, he didn't have a car either. so some one's parents were going to have to drive them, probably. unless they double-dated...but who with? his friends were not the type of people she was used to, he was pretty sure. he decided to call anyway. there was nothing to lose....

Their first date was to the drive-in eatery where every one was at one point in the evening or another. so that every one would see them together not doing anything bad at all. he just kind-of wanted to see what people would say the next day. all they did was get hamburgers and milkshakes and sit and talk and say Hi to their friends who came by to check them out...nothing much was said the next day...which surprised them both, really....
Their second date was to the movies. he did hold her hand. same stuff. friends checking them out and all...friendly looks the next day....
Their third date was to the river. he kissed her one time...the next day the whole blame school was buzzing about how they were making out at the river...genuine really rude slurs about her Jewishness and his Indian-ness. not worth repeating. ever.

They were not actually planning on going out again. she had gotten pretty upset about all the gossip and meanness and everything. for some reason, it bothered her most that somebody said she was trash...worse then Christ-killer, she told him. on account of she couldn't relate to that one. but trash bothered her. she wasn't happy. but, she wanted to go out with him again. she wanted to know if he read. he didn't. end of that conversation. but he wanted to see her again to...it wasn't the sex, which they actually hadn't had. it was a different feeling. if he had ever loved anyone before, he would have called it love. but, not. so...not....

Ma asked him what was up. I'm going out with a Jew, Ma. Sara Wiseman. she didn't say anything. not a word. he wasn't sure about it all. so far, he hadn't even asked to be driven anywhere by his dad. he was pretty sure she hadn't asked her parents either. they were seniors, for gods sake. it was wrong that they didn't have a car and couldn't drive - neither of them. Joey was starting to feel wrong, just wrong, just everywhere. except when he was with Sara. being with Sara was more comfortable than being alone in his bed at night, just thinking. it was nicer to just sit by her side, just thinking. she said it was the same for her. he told one of her friends that he was her best friend and Sara was his best friend right back...she just laughed and said, well, that's not what I hear...what do you hear? you're doing the number, Joey. just cop to it, fool....no we're not. well, that's not what I hear....

People are so stupid. Dad was starting in on him now...I suppose dating a Catholic would be out of the question...Dad, we don't even go to church in our family...what are you doing with a Jew...being friends, dad....damn, son, that isn't what we used to call it in my day, kid....dad, I am so messed up over this. but we haven't done nothin'. Whatever, son....Joey left the room so fast...his hands wanted to hit something. some one. but, no one touched any one in his house. not even to hit. much less hug.....

It was nearing graduation time...nearing prom. he knew no one else had asked her. because she had gone out with him. and now they just hung around after school and talked and talked. or put in the earphones together and listened to tunes....they were happy together. but lots of friends had been there and weren't anymore. some still were. but it wasn't the same. they were, well, a couple. but not actually dating. but kids treated them like they weren't there sometimes anyway...why? Why? Joey knew why. he knew Sara knew why. but no body said anything. especially not him and Sara....

Every one seemed to be waiting for them to grow out of it. to get a grip that a college-bound Jew and a gas-station-bound half-breed were just not going to make it much longer. Joey had no idea why he and Sara were still hanging out together. except he didn't want to be with any body else. and apparently neither did she. so, he asked her to the prom. so she said yes. and they kissed underneath the bleachers on the football field. just a couple of times. but it was real nice.

Prom night came. no body said anything about partying with them afterwards or double-dating with them or anything. and they didn't seem to care. he came to pick her up in a cab. neither of her parents came to the door at all. he gave her the gardenia she wanted to wear. they were happy. parents or no parents. friends or no friends. they had a good time at the prom. a lot of kids were actually pretty nice to them. it was a really good night. they held each other tight and kissed a lot during the slow dances, just like every body else. then he took her home by cab. they kissed some more in the cab. that was all....

When he came home, there were four messages on the house message machine. all being weird about them going out together and all...it was so crazy! this was like the twentieth century! they were kids! Joey knew there had to be places in the USA where people didn't act so nuts about race and religions and stuff. but his damn town sure wasn't one of them....he felt very, very tired...very unhappy, suddenly....it was useless. all his hopes were useless...Ma and his dad hadn't talked with him for days and days...this was supposed to feel good. it was supposed to feel right to love someone as great as Sara. he was supposed to be good for her....he felt all wrong in this town, where he had been born....like there was no where safe to go any more in his own town. his own house.

Joey lay on his bed and looked around the room he had lived and slept in all his life...he had never even slept with Sara. he imagined what it would be like to make love with her...looked like that was never going to happen. he let that sink in strong. suddenly, and very seriously, he knew what he had to do...

he had to get out of this narrow little town. right away. no waiting for graduation. his credits were all in. he was done with school. ma and pa would barely miss him. that was a fact. and Sara. she'd get over it. there wouldn't be nice to do this to her. but it would be better than dragging it all out. graduation. her going off to college. maybe they'd have a summer romance or whatever. then it would be even harder...this way, it would be over with real fast. she'd have the summer to get over it. then she'd meet some college guys at dances and stuff. it would all go good for her. he had heard stories about their kind of 'relationship' before. about the reasons they didn't work out...they weren't so new, in the long run....

Then he made a bit of a mistake...but it was one that lead to places he hadn't imagined...he told Sara that he was going to go...he called her the day after the Prom and told her that he was going to take the bus to Chicago. stay with his cousin until he could get a job and an apartment. he had some savings. his cousin needed a room mate...she started crying. which he, for some reason, had not expected.

then she told him some thing. that he had never, never expected. she told him that she was pregnant.

Of course, it was not his baby, or fetus...they both knew that. he didn't know what to say. being upset, he just said, you going to get rid of it? then she really cried. then he felt really worse. who's the father? she told him a name he didn't know. it was her older cousin. a second cousin. but still. it turns out he had been abusing her since she was around twelve years old. Joey felt angry and very, very sad all at once. sad for Sara. sad for himself. sad for the baby, or fetus or whatever. he said something that, of course, he hadn't expected to say. I'll marry you if you need me to.

there was quiet over the phone. then, Sara Sue Wiseman said, OK. I'll marry you. just like that. just like that. Joey suddenly felt trapped. lucky. unhappy. happy. used. grateful...all at once...I got to see you! OK. I'll meet you at the park....

they were a sober couple. not sad. but very serious. sit, please, Joey. OK. I'm feeling funny about all of this. me too, Joey. I'm not going to hold you to what you said over the phone, Joey. Listen to me first, OK? OK, Sara.

Joey. this baby is the child of a rape. I don't want to say more than that. I am never going to say more than that. I don't want the baby to know. I'm keeping this kid, whether we get married or not. I'm not going to college yet. I will, one day. but, for now, I'm going to get a job and save money to have this kid right and have a decent place for us to live...Joey, I love you so much. that sounds lame right now, I know. but it's true. if you want to be family with me and the baby that would be great. if you want to try to be the baby's dad that would be great too...but, no pressure, Joey. if you just want to stay friends, then the baby and I can use friends. if you want to run away and never look back...well, that's OK too. I can sure understand that one. I have a big, big wanting to run away, too...Joey...what are you thinking?

I'm back at where you love me...why do you love me, Sara?...

Joey...you are kind. you are very real. you respect me for the right reasons. you are sexy for me for the right reasons...you understand me like no one else does...I think I understand you...you make me happy, Joey. you make me laugh. you make me feel safe. all of the time...I know I love you. I really do. that's all....

I'm not as smart as you... I know you don't do academics, Joey. I love your mind though. you think really well. you have an instinct for being right about life. lots of the time....

what about the parents and the Jewish stuff and the Indian stuff...what about it?... every body has to put up with some really mean stuff in their lives....it's no big deal...we can try the city, if you want...or we can duke it out here. people are always going to talk. it's the rotten part of human nature....

You are a Merciful Man, Joey. you are being merciful to me...is the same as loving me? or liking me even? or wanting to be with me?..Joey?

I'm not the Merciful Man, Sara. You're a Merciful Woman, tho, Sara....you want to take me on. you're going to take the baby on....
you are a good woman, Sara....I love you so much it's not even something I can practically imagine. I've not known anything like this before....

Joey? I do...I do, Sara. I'm taking on you. you and the baby too...We'll go to Chicago...get married...see this all through together....OK?....

Now begin the voices of their youth. the voices that say as they have always said...be real be practical. be like us. you will never last. this marriage will never last. you are children. you have no right to have this baby. you have no right to subject this child to your whims. you are not of the same people. mixed marriage of mixed-up children. we will not let you live in our houses. not near us. you will not have friends. your jobs will be the jobs of the outcast. tho no one will say so. your child will be an outcast. you will lose love when so much silent hate is all around you. there is no where to go. it will all be the same. there will be no mercy for you. there will be no mercy for you.

Joey held Sara's hands. We will be happy. this is real love. it is good love. tho I don't know much about good love. I know this is. what we have. it will be enough. It will be a mercy. being with you will be the greatest mercy I have ever had. I will be good to you. I will be good for you. and for the baby. we will always be one thing, you and me.

And Sara nodded her head.
And everything was Yes for her.
She was a Merciful Woman and always would be.
She knew Truth
whenever she saw it...

and not one mean word

could change this love...
this mercy
between them...

not
one
word....

TEARS OF JOY - TEARS OF GRIEF is a short story with a twist, of course, which is a bit of all-right....I like this story, myself...it has a certain symetry to it....

TEARS OF JOY - TEARS OF GRIEF


Why must I always be the thief? These lines flowed through Rose's every single thought and feeling every single day...she was a home-wrecker. she lived in a small town. where every one really does not know every one else. but they all think they do...she had a long story. these stories are always long. very much like any other story about the same series of gossipy events. yet, naturally, very different. every body likes to think that her story is different. no one has ever loved like he does. or did. no one has ever suffered as she does. or did. Rose was no exception here. only she dwelled on it more than may have been needed - given that the story was so ordinary, really. you all know you have heard every story under the sun at some point in life. somewhere in your late thirties they start to repeat their themes... songs you've hummed before. memories that were fresh in their delights and in their horrors. losses that were unique to you and you alone... become part of being simply a person. an ordinary person in an ordinary town. in ordinary times....not so special anymore....

James owned the only decent hardware store in town. he was a good guy. every body said that about him - since he had been little. he saw himself that way. he married his high school sweetheart... they had the boy first. then the girl. thank god. 'cause now they had the two just-right number of kids. both healthy. both smart in school. both real sweet. just like their parents... the girl took after her mom. adored her Pop. the boy took after his dad. adored his Mom. all was correct in the world... the hardware store flourished. James was a good business man. his three employees loved him like a father. he fathered them right back. he kind-of fathered his wife too. she kind-of mothered him right back... their house was perfect. real nice. historical. James was so handy. did all the work himself. Susan stayed home and raised the kids. then helped in the store when they went to school - to help save money. their family vacations were wonderful. full of really fun adventures - safe ones though. nothing risky. they were the perfect American Family. their problems were few. their pleasures were simple and plenty. they were people of plenty.

Rose worked in the store, naturally... James would never have wound up wanting and needing a stranger. he thought of Rose as a friend. she was the widow of one of his friends from the golf club. he and Susan had them over for dinner lots of times. they had been over for dinner to Rose and Joey's house lots of times. once they had even taken a vacation with them. they had gone fishing on one of the famed little stocked lakes a couple of hours from their homes. Rose had been great with the little kids. played with them while the other adults were out on the water. she had no kids of her own. but she worked part-time as a Teacher Aide in the elementary schools. she was requested often to help out in classes. on account of being good with kids. she was called sweet just like Susan was called sweet...it meant you made no waves. didn't mess up. helped your community. were nice to your neighbors. went to church regularly enough to be noticed. had no known skeletons in your closet...

every one mentioned that it was too bad she and Joey had no kids. on account of when he died. young... and her left with no kids. so free. with a need to get a full-time job. Joey had been OK with money. but his little auto repair business was one of three in town. so they had just made it. none extra for take care of early death. life insurance too small... so James had hired her to work in his store. on account of his business was growing. plus she could do book-keeping. save him having to hire out to a book-keeper in town. good deal. except for the other book-keeper in town.

It was nice to have Rose around. practically like a member of the family. and she could work overtime without complaining. since her house was empty of responsibilities. and she could use the overtime. she was attractive. and kind. so she was an asset to his business. his men friends would tease him about her. maybe they were a little jealous. great wife. and great woman at work too. James sure had it all. stuff like that. the banter kept them all faithful to their wives. harmless fun. Rose always looked embarrassed when they teased at work. which was what the woman should do... she was falling in love. actually. although no one saw that at all. they saw two old friends who were fond of each other. no threat to the town and their families at all. Susan never worried. James adores me. her friends all agreed. James was falling in love with Rose too. no body saw it coming. not even Rose...

There was really no reason to fall in love with Rose. she was a lot like Susan. except for one thing. she had a restlessness in her. and she occasionally shop-lifted. stole. nothing big. certainly not any money from the business. small things. staples. nails. hand soap. sponges. a small flashlight. any shrink could have told you that her life felt really empty with Joey gone. her home and her life were spare. these little things from the store brought James home with her. it was all easy to figure out. especially as she had stolen very little ever before. mainly as a kid. which many kids do. almost as part of growing up. she was ashamed that she stole from the store. but the things were so small. it didn't seem to matter. no one noticed at all. but she actually had bad dreams about it sometimes. then she would wake up crying. and reach for Joey. who was never going to be there. and how could he have helped anyway...

One night they were working late - due to inventory. running late. a little irritable, both of them. hungry and feeling a bit put-upon. their hands brushed several times during the night. shuffling papers and piling things on and off shelves and all about. one time he brushed his chest right past her breasts and she caught on her words in a gasp. their eyes met. they did not joke. he took her into his large and capable arms and kissed her full on the lips. she did not stop him one bit. then they were both so surprised that they did nothing else. they went back to work and finished the job. he was driving her home. he only said that it would not happen again. yes it will, she said. he held the door for her. then he came inside for some coffee. they made love right away. on her sofa. without a word. I love you. I love you too. don't quit the job. I won't. we'll work this out. yes, I think we will. he went home.

this went on at her house for months. no body seemed to notice. they were friends... she didn't have a car. forgot to mention that she didn't have a car... they made love pretty fast. the time it takes to have a cup of coffee or tea. they never touched at work. they never called each other. but Rose was taking a lot more stuff out of the store. larger things. a teapot. a dish strainer. kitchen stuff. then a lamp. oil for her two oil lamps. James said nothing. if he noticed. which he probably did. guilt kept the silence possible. then money began to leave the till...

First just a five or a ten. then twenties. then more. Rose was the book person. it took a long time for James to notice. he had to say something. so he did. she promised to stop. he gave her a raise. he missed the point entirely. of course. she didn't need the money. she needed a husband. and he was already a husband. here comes the part that is so familiar... fights....

they started fighting about the things she stole. then more about money. tho she wasn't stealing money any more. at least not regularly. then Susan started to complain that he was spending more time with Rose than with his own family. people were starting to talk. we all know what happens when people start to talk. they start to see. they start to see what they were not quite seeing before. even with closed doors and curtains drawn on windows. people start seeing through all that. they start sniffing out trouble. then they talk some more. it wasn't good. James decided to call the whole thing off. but Rose would have none of it.

Rose's restless self started showing it's fur and its claws. she raised her hackles and scratched. she clawed away at him. he fell out of love. he sent her home in cabs. which cost. but it was better than the shouting in the car. every one could see them in the car. even in the dark. and no going into her house for any reason. he made it clear that he would fire her if she kept up this nonsense... finally he got pretty desperate. she was going to ruin his home life and his business. he told her he would pay her to move out of town. he would help her sell her house. and get another job. and give her money until she was settled. but she had to get out of their little town. for his kid's sakes. that got her...

Rose promised to go. her house went on the market and sold right away. Jame's friend in a town fifty miles away would take her on as a temp. if she worked out well she would have a job for keeps. they told every one she wanted a fresh start. she packed up. the moving van came. the house was empty. she was going to take the bus to the new town. James and Susan had a going- away party for her. the other employees came and her few friends in town. it was a nice party. every one was very supportive. she stayed overnight at James and Susan's house without a peep of trouble. still she knew: that everybody in town knew exactly what had happened. and what was going to happen. and why. every one was very nice. very...

James drove her to the bus station the next morning. she got on very polite and quiet and thanked him. it was nothing at all. Rose. thank you for not making a scene. it's the least I can do. the least. James. goodbye. the bus pulled away.

The next day James found that his entire store bank account was gone. there was a note on his desk. patiently explaining why. and what would happen if he made a fuss about it.
Susan had a letter come that very day. the letter told her to look to her husband's business. that he was dishonest with the funds.
every one in town got a neatly printed postcard delivered to their homes telling them that James was a dishonest merchant in their honest midst. signed. a concerned citizen.
there was nothing amiss at his business at all. except that the money was gone. James said no comment. he telephoned his lawyer. months later. he still had not regained the good will of his community.
small towns understand little. but they forgive even less.

every love affair involving the hard word of adultery has its sharp edges. it is possible to bleed... sometimes the stories turn out very well. sometimes the injured party even comes off OK in the bargain. sometimes things end very badly for some. but not for the other party....

Rose invested the money she had saved so diligently. working for James. she invested it well. she bought real estate. in five years she was a wealthy woman. she married a wealthy man. they kept their money separate.
she still dwelled mightily on her love for James. which had been the best love and even the best sex of her whole lifetime.
she regretted that Susan had divorced James - having been upset at that letter. reading between the lines that there was more to this than just the money. never trusting him again... his kids grew up disliking him quite a bit. he never really had a good life again....

Rose loved her husband enough. and she was rich. but she was known for shop-lifting small items throughout the town. and even from friend's homes. poor thing just couldn't seem to help herself. no one stopped her. she was so generous to her town, that a few items missing here and there was no big deal. she was such a beloved eccentric!

she also cried more and more as she got older. she had never been a crying woman ever before. she cried at occasions that were full of joy. she cried out grief for a long time. some said it was regrets. some said she had once lost a great love. but no one could figure out who that could have possibly been. after all. she was just a small-town sort of woman. nothing special ever really happened or had happened in her life. had it?

It's best to leave the past in the past. best to let it go.

sometimes she could be heard humming a refrain over and over to herself. her husband finally asked her what it was...
Tears of Joy. Tears of Grief. Why must I always be a Thief.
what a strange song, Rose. why do you sing that to yourself.
no reason. just an old tune. I've hummed it all my life I guess.

for no reason at all...

no good reason
at all....

PETE is a combination of folks I've loved who died or were lost...he's a wonderful guy whose world is no longer in ours...I do very much miss those who have died before me. I'm not wild about this Death Business...this World is enough of heaven and hell for me...and it's not as great to be here when those I love aren't in sight....

PETE - World Gone By of Sunshines...Rains....


There is no sense to this. It's not about reality. It's about how the world comes to an end whenever some body dies. how it's not true for the rest of us. But. that one view of the world and the past and the present and the, also unreal, projection into the future. dies.
I wonder about such notions....

My friend Pete, my good friend who is dead for these two years now, is a great example of this line of questioning in my head....

Here's a bit of Pete's world...as I recall it, that is....others may tell you a different story....

Pete knew every thing there is to know about how to fix the world. he was a philosopher. a dreamer. and inventor. I used to watch him on his old wood shop machines. think about how they didn't have guards on them anywhere. how you could cut off a finger. which, in fact, Pete had, a few years back. his only comment at the time had been that it was lucky it wasn't a finger he actually needed. Pete considered himself a very lucky man.

He could bake bread. on account of, he had been a kid who volunteered toward the end of WW 1. They had put him into the Field Bakery. the shells would be whizzing by while he kneaded the dough to make the morning bread. he liked to say he was the last of the Dough Boys, because he had been a Dough Boy for sure. he still baked a loaf of very white bread, one a day.

Traditionalist. that would describe him. and Patriot would too. Especially in music. old songs. lots about America. his America, from way back... He played an old banjo that had never been worth much. now that he was dead, it was worth less, money-wise. only he could coax music out of that old hide. I had tried to learn on it. it sounded tinny when I plucked at it. in Pete's hands, it sounded like a trio on the TV. that good. Pete could play everything. blues. R and B. folk. jazz. anything before 1960. after that, he drew the line. The Decade The Music Died, he called it. well, there were hundreds of tunes before that. he knew them all by heart and hand...

Then, there were his gardening ways. traditional garden. lots of bug spray and herbicide spray and nitrogen spray, too. everything in rows so straight. plumb-lined them with chalk on the ground. all labeled. all weeded. all the time. watered overhead, 'the way God intended'....snails caught in beer saucers and dump all drunk to death into the compost the next morning. compost pile carefully tended. whole garden spic and span....tradition in the crops, of course....rows of carrots, string beans, sweet peas and shell peas. onions and radishes. ollala berries. raspberries. strawberries. potatoes. gladiolas. dahlias. roses. daisies. and a whole huge patch of saved Bantam Gold seeds of corn, dried on the cob in the wood shop. for the family Corn Feed late in the summer ahead....and, in the Greenhouse, orchids for his daughter...

The wood shop. he had never tired in the wood shop. he had been a Master of Wood since he had been a young lad. there were thousands of trees that had gladly given their warm and living trunks to Pete to cut into board feet for furniture and knick knacks and decks and porches and houses and doors and windows and lighthouses and boats and canoes. Pete could design and make everything with wood and he did. He milled and built and and designed and crafted four out of five days of the weeks for over seventy years....his hands were almost made of wood themselves, so close he was to woods...especially walnut and oak...

Sea Shanties. He recited and sang, a bit off key, Sea Shanties. He sang them to his grand daughter, who learned them all. He loved Gilbert and Sullivan too...especially the HMS Pinafore... he loved any songs about the sea. He loved everything about the sea and about boats...

He had been a nautical engineer...he built boats and parts of ships and propellers and hulls and masts. He built with the Sea Scouts and with cities and with the Navy during WW 2...he was happy building boats and repairing boats...he knew everything there was to know about boats and boat engines....

He had been raised on a island with a Lighthouse on it in the Bay where he lived. He knew all about the workings of The Light. how it functioned. how it was tended. how to keep all the glass clean. He knew how to keep a light house ship-shape in every way....he knew the birds of a Light Station. the loneliness. the beauty. the happiness of the work. tending the light. keeping the codes of a light house keeper. the log...
he knew the diaphone fog horn. the only man left on the coast of California who knew how to run it and maintain it and repair it. they video-taped him doing all the work needed to keep a diaphone fog horn going, so next generations could do it when he was gone some day. they held Fog Horn contests at the San Francisco County Fair (you heard me right) where people would get a day and night out at the Lighthouse in the Bay if they mimicked the fog horn sounds exactly right...

Pete got about a hundred folks interested enough to come and clamber onto an old whaling dinghy with him at least once a week, and go out into the harbor to the Lighthouse Island and refurbish every building inside and out, every piece of machinery, every bit of concrete, and every fence in sight. and, the diaphone fog horn. and, the entire Light itself...He led every work group and directed everyone until they dropped from exhaustion, at which point, he'd take the tiller and steer for home with his tired crew. He spearheaded the place becoming a Bed and Breakfast to maintain it's upkeep...in fact, its very existence....and he taught everyone which recipes to use to feed the people who paid good bucks to enjoy the little gem in the bay that he had created.....it's still there today...still thriving under his light....

Of course...this is only a list. a list of things he did....he cooked, for example, stuffed cabbages, when he had guests over for dinner...made divinity fudge that would make your mouth sing...he preserved berry jams and jellies from his garden....made 'abble skiver' dumplings with plum jam in them...what does that tell you about him? what kind of man was he, to do these things well?....

He had huge bar-be-cues in his back yard by the creek during the summer. especially on the Fourth of July. when he would also shoot off huge illegal fireworks up into the trees over the creek. thereby terrorizing all the neighbors and his guests....

What does that tell you about him?

He told poor but extremely funny jokes. many of them were politically incorrect. he did not go to church. when he got mad, he did not take God's name in vain, ever. he didn't tell jokes about God either. The Garden was his Church...when we would meet for pancakes, called "hotcakes" at seven in the morning on Sundays, we would eat, clear-up, and then he'd intone, "time for church! let us pray!"....and down to the wood shop or up to the garden we would go...to work!

He had loved his wife. who died mysteriously. he had loved many women before she died. after she died, he made friends with women. But she had been his everything... he was very, very kind to women. rarely judged women. put them mainly on pedestals of varying heights all of his life...was rarely upset with anything women did. considered them, even his own daughters, as being rather mysterious. not of this world in the same way men are...when younger, I had thought this old fashioned. the more I have known women over the years, the more I have come to believe and think as Pete did. he was right. besides, women, he had found, did not want anything but kindness and love. he knew how to give that with dignity and grace.He especially loved to have meals with women friends...any time...anywhere....right until the end of his days....

To be admitted, he was frugal about some things. about others, he was too generous...with his time, he was profligate. he always said yes to every request for help. to every invitation. to every one who would ask of him. He helped and taught and gave away to hundreds of people...and never made a fuss about it....

He had also, at one time, been a lithographer. a salesman. he had been a proud worker...then his work became unwanted and un-needed in the modern world. he lost his pride in work that took his creative edge away. Still, he worked and did his very best. and every one knew that. he was his own code of behavior. no boss could bully him into doing well. he did well, simply because that is what he always did. well as he could...

His relationship to men: business-like. He worked with men. He loved good workmen. Men who did not work were dismissed as "Bums". Color. Race. Religion. Politics. none of this mattered to him. the character of the man was all to him. A good man was a friend. A bad man was not...life on this level was simple for Pete.

He was a true Patriot. America was simply "right". the government was often wrong. Liberals werelsometimes wrong. Conservatives were rarely wrong. Wars were right if America was in them. Right for our side. foreigners, as a mass, were wrong. individual foreigners were often right. strident folk of all ilks were wrong. reasonable people were right...life on these levels was simple for Pete, as well....

Does this tell you of his world? If I tell you that he cried for a long time when any friend, especially a woman friend, died....would that help you to understand him? When I tell you that he built a gate for Dixie to come through into his garden, to make it easier for her to bridge the space between them, would that tell you who he was as a man? If you saw him picking flowers to take to the hostess who invited him to dinner, would you find that poignant? would it tell you what he was thinking as he arranged them in the nice vase? If I tell you that he longed for true love all of his days, would you think that strange, for such a practical man? a loyal man. beyond belief, loyal...

And the animals! all of them, he called "Bums"...but this time, with a fond look on his face. he spoiled every animal that came his way...he was mainly a dog man...when his dogs died over the years, he buried them in his garden with little headstones... when he took in all the dogs of the neighborhood for visits, would you think him soft? how about the raccoons he fed in his living room?....the feral cats?....

Cutting wood for the fire. pickaxing holes to plant his lilies...saving the bulbs for his dahlias and glads each fall, for the next Spring...keeping a place in his "dessert pouch" for sweets after meals...hanging off the very most frail branch to reach a piece of fruit...winding up the compost turning barrel he'd devised...rigging and jigging and whirly-gigging wood to do whatever design he had in his head...piloting any boat in any sea with no more fear than any water creature...crafting thousands of hard-wood pens on his lathe for the "fighting boys in Kuwait" well into his mid-nineties...if you saw any of these parts, how would you...how could you...tell of the Whole?....

Music was his soul. Sometimes his soul was sad, and he didn't play his banjo or sing then....most times, though, he listened and listened to music...music beat with his heart like a blood stream...he could not live without music.

These are the questions I think about...

when Pete died, every single thing I just told you about him died with him....so...

did that world come to an end? just that one world?.....

the workshop still stands, but hardly any one works there any more.
his banjo sits unplayed in his middle-daughter's living room.
the garden is not as it was when he was it's keeper. tho everyone works in it now and again.
the lighthouse Bread and Breakfast is still going strong...his Monday Morning Crew still goes out in the old whaler and keeps up its maintenance regularly.
his daughters and grand kids and his few male friends and his many women friends still recall him with much love...

But, you see, don't you? A whole world...a planet of huge proportions...died when he died.
Every thought he ever had. each feeling. all the wonderful things his hands had done. his bright and bonny mind and every idea. design. plan. reflexion...all the music in his head and hands. all the skill. gone....

Given all the rains he lived through....given all the suns that rose and set in his life...

where did he go?

where did his world go?....

I am given to wondering about such things.
Pete would say that people who analyzed life were always asking "wither do I wander?", but that really they were just "wandering while they withered!" he found that notion very, very amusing. he would always laugh at that thought. as he would at all of his jokes....!

It is an amusing thought....really....
I find my self giggling at that thought....and now...

laughing...really, really...

laughing!....

NO PAIN WILL KISS THE BROW is a psychobabble message sent to me in a bottle from Cyberspaceandtimecosmosether-Land. Word.

NO PAIN WILL KISS THE BROW


last night, just after I sent a bunch of photos to a friend on an
email: an odd event happened: a second or so after I sent it off with
an 'OK'....a new one flipped on - a new email 'compose' that is - with
his address on top...and a 'Subject"...the Subject read: In dreams, no
pain will kiss the brow....
now you have to see: I did not write the subject. I did not write: In
dreams, no pain will kiss the brow. not one word. it just appeared.
out of thin air. no lie: I did not readdress my friend. there was no
message attached. just those words. which I had never heard before.
had never read before. had never written before. had not written this
night. not one word of it it had just popped up in the 'Subject' line.
I did not know why. I do not know why. I asked him about it. I asked
my friend who lives with me about it. he had seen it happen on my
computer screen. since we were both skyping our friend at the time
that I was emailing him pictures... but didn't seem surprised. and
said he couldn't figure out why it happened either. of course...

the night was very, very, very stormy...a series of huge storms were
going to be coming in... this was the first of them: there were skies
shocked with lightening and thunder and buckets of rain. today I
learned that it had snowed about ten miles away from me. and hailed
only a mile or so from me. we live where it very rarely snows or
hails. the moon was going into perigee this very night. it was
appearing huge. couldn't see it of course. on account of the storm. it
was an amazing night! that much was for sure....

back to the line. which existed. I sent it off to our friend. with a
note just questioning the universe and all: why had this line
happened?....then I got curious. what if the line really existed in
real space and time. existed somewhere in literature. or in a song of
something...so,,,I looked for it in google naturally. and you know:
the line really exists...it truly does. and here is its story:
well. read a bit. you'll see. this line: which appeared in print
through my computer into the Subject line of an email I did not
initiate: is real....

Eldorado Overture...From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia...Jump to:
navigation, search
"Eldorado Overture"
Song by Electric Light Orchestra from the album Eldorado
Released 1974
Recorded De Lane Lea Studios
Genre Symphonic Rock
Length 2:11
Label Jet, United Artists, Columbia
Writer Jeff Lynne
Producer Jeff Lynne
Eldorado track listing
"Eldorado Overture"
(1) "Can't Get It Out of My Head"

"Eldorado Overture" is the opening track on Electric Light Orchestra's
1974 concept album Eldorado.

It was a new experience for Jeff Lynne to use a full orchestra and
choir for the band's songs. The opening starts with haunting sounds
provided by Richard Tandy on the synthesizer. A deep voice (Peter
Forbes-Robertson) speaks out the first lyrics of the entire album.

The dreamer, the unworken fool,
In dreams, no pain will kiss the brow.
The love of ages fills the head.
The days that linger there in prey of emptiness,
Of burned out dreams.
The minutes calling through the years.
The universal dreamer rises up above his earthly burden.
Journey to the dead of night.
High on a hill in Eldorado...

The words fade into an orchestra that opens the concept of the LP,
from 1:11 to 2:11. The orchestra slows and segues into the next track
Can't Get It Out of My Head. Since the two tracks fit together well,
they were performed together up until the Time tour in 1981.

[edit] Reviews"The first actual experience of having a great big
orchestra was the Eldorado Overture and it blew me away. I never write
the words to my songs until after I've finished the music. In this
case, I wrote the spoken introduction for the actor in the van on the
way to the studio." Jeff Lynne (2000 - Flashback)

Can you see that part?! the part in the poem or introduction or
whatever it is...the second line? the part that reads, "In dreams, no
pain will kiss the brow."? ...well? doesn't it strike you as being a
wee bit strange that those are exactly, precisely the words that were
in the Subject portion of that email? doesn't it?....

I have now read over the poem or passage in the overture or whatever
this is. I have read it over and over and over. sometimes I almost
think that I understand it. that it's about a person's life. how you
dream about how it's going to be. and then you live it. and it's not
that. your life is something else. not the dream. how you die even
thinking that the dream is real. was maybe more real than the life.
but was a good dream. whether or not it came though for a person. or
for me. or for anyone. that line about the journey towards the end.
does it mean to a heaven of sorts? or just an end? the Eldorado part.
is that about how it all had meaning? or how none of it had meaning.
and that that's OK. or something like that...

then I start thinking that none of life has all that meaning. I mean:
just think: there are about seven million of us. who cares about the
every single dream of every single second of every single one of us?
how many of our own dreams came 'true'? and what did that mean for us?
for anyone else? how is it possible to judge anyone? their dreams...or
mine? what value they had? whether there was pain you could read on
any one's brow. much less mine...my minutes...rising above my earthly
burden...what does this all mean?....

suddenly I see it. then I don't. then I do. then I don't. then I do.
then I suddenly...suddenly...let go. I realize that I will never.
never. never: understand my life. or anyone elses. or why I've done
all the good I've done. or all the bad I've done. why some of my
dreams came through. why others never came true at all. why so many of
them repeated themselves over and over. meaning my relationships with
others. mainly. mainly repeating in some odd ways: my relationships
with men. always looking for Eldorado.

and there it is. Eldorado. what I. what anyone else: tried to do: to
reach our dreams. or maybe: our hopes: about what our lives: our
relationships: were going to be. how our lives: how my life: were
supposed to be. was supposed to be. how good it was all supposed to
be. or how maybe - let's say: I - was supposed to be. how I was
supposed to be so perfect. if only I dreamed right. if only I played
it right. if only I maneuvered things my way. if only I manipulated
things to work my way. if only I was kind. if only I was good. if only
I was honest. then everything would be perfect there would be no pain
upon my brow. the dream would be real. it would be ideal...as if. as
if any life has a right to all that. now. now I know:

there is only night at the end. out of the night: the light can be
seen. which means you find it. you find the light. which is maybe the
dream all along. the peace of the light. well: the night has its peace
too. it really does. it is all one thing. it is all the same. the
differences we feel between us. the sameness we feel between us. it is
all the same. sometimes we get to dream strongly. sometimes we get a
glimpse of the gold: the Eldorado. then it is gone. we lose it hourly.
we see it again. we reach for it. even touch it again. maybe again. it
is never the answer. most likely: it is only the question.

this is all to say: that I have no idea how those words appeared in
the subject space. that I sent to a sensible and good-hearted friend:
who would totally be confused by this strange set of crazy musings
I've just filled this page within. who would not understand why I do
understand what I've just written...why it has given me some peace.
actually: a great deal of peace. why peace is important to me...having
had enough pain in my life to feel strongly: that I do not want the
pain on my brow. that I do not want anything bad. but that the bad is
always there. and that the good is always there. that it is all one
thing. that I am not very worried about that right now. I am not even
very enlightened by knowing all that either. that all these musings
are pretty stupid. they are also pretty weird. but they are OK as
well. they are fine. they are part of my dream. that's all they are.
they are part of my mind and my heart and my dreams of what was to be.
of what didn't happen in my life. and what did happen in my life: how
it was all one thing.

I believe it's all about love. that's all it's about. that's all it's
been...this short and barely important: and dream-real life of mine.
and not on just one love with any one person. love with hundreds of
people every year of my life. in hundreds of ways. all of it dream.
all of it real. all of it right. all of it not in prey of emptiness.
not all of it burned-out dreams. not all of it: earthly burden....

much of it: the love of ages. just like the poem said: the love of
ages. and ages and ages and ages: all the lives together: who had the
dreams. who looked for them in the dead of their nights. who learned
to love their ways to the gold at the top of their own mountains...who
touched their own Eldorado...and came back again...for some reason: to
me...on a cold and very windy night of rain and snow and hail and a
moon growing huge towards its perigee and tsunamis and plates moving
about on the earth...

to give me this small lesson:

do not desert your dreams.
though there be pain in your very thoughts.
upon your very brow...
though there be no dream possible:

keep reaching for your own Eldorado.
keep dreaming it.
keep on loving.

it is all I can do.
this strange message came to me:
I saw it.
I am
the unworken fool of the poem.
it' music is working in me
it is all I can do....

ALL IS FLEETING is a small lyrics about the changing Weathers of San Francisco...it reminded a former student of mine, Aurora, that Time is Fleeting....she lives and works in SF...so she knows about these things....

ALL IS FLEETING

San Francisco Weather tellin'
Stories swirlin' in like fogs -
Remindin' me It All is fleetin'
Remindin' me each night is new...
That every sunny day is too....
__________________________

San Francisco Weather comin'
One day hot the next day colder -
Fleetin' - all alive and free...
Remindin' me of Ocean winds - an'
Rivers meetin' sand and sea....
__________________________

CHORUS

I'm a Child of San Franciso
I'm all caught up in all its charms
Hold its foggy mornin's dearly
In its sunshine noontime arms
_________________________

San Francisco Foghorns bleatin'
Weather Warnin's through the Sky...
I just walk the rained-on streets and
Watch the city's moon rise high -
Lightin' my hopes by and by....
_________________________

San Francisco's Weather's changin'
I know I am changin' too...
Walk her streets through fog and drizzle -
Through the streets I know so true...
Weather brings my Song to you...
This City brings its Song to you....
________________________

CHORUS
_______________________

WHEN I WAS A COWGIRL is a Western Lyrics for C and W dancin' or just around some fire out in the desert to keep warm, when the heat all rises out up from the desert floor to the stars...it can be chilly then....

WHEN I WAS A COWGIRL

When I was a Cowgirl
An' piloted them ranch planes
I had Some Such Good Friends who
Had rare fine times with me...
All day workin' saddle or the planes...
Can't recall their names -
No, darlins, can't recall their names...
____________________

Been wearing all my silver lately
My hat is black like sun-spot black...
Been wearin' my sweet silver lately -
Got it from Navajo out on the ridges...
Had some rare fine times with the Dine' -
All day in our saddles on the plains...
Can't recall their names -
Kind People, can't recall their names....
____________________

When I was a Cowgirl
I was hard on them ranch planes...
I had Some Such Pilots for Friends then
Who flew them deep blue skies with me...
All day followin' cattle in them old planes...
Can't recall their names -
Them pilots, can't recall their names....
____________________

Lookin' back to ranch days as a Cowgirl -
Ropin'- Ridin - flyin' mile to mile...
Silver wings and silver bracelets flashin'
In the hard sun - happy all the while...
Lovers were good lookin' - happy too...
Can't recall them lover's names...
No, can't recall them lover's names
No more...not since You, My Darlin...
No more...not since You....
_____________________

HOLDIN' ON WITH BOTH HANDS are lyrics inspired by a line sent me by my dear friend and Little Grasshopper of Our Grasshopper Clan, Vicky G...she's a wonder, and I love you, dear Friend! She's in SoCal, so this song is rockin' because, well, it's SoCal!....

HOLDIN' ON WITH BOTH HANDS

Holdin' on with both hands -
This is gonna' be a heck of a ride!
Holdin' on with both my hands -
This is gonna' be a crazy ride!
I've been ridin' this bike for ever...
It's always been a crazy ride....
_______________________

Beggin' my baby - beggin'
Right upon my knees...
Beggin' my sweet baby - beggin'
Right upon these knees...
Just singin' Rockabye my baby -
Beggin' with a pretty please....
_______________________

You're just the finest lady -
You give me everything all right...
Give me my sunny days, lady -
Give me love to love all night...
You bring your kind self over
An' ride behind me on my bike....
_______________________

I seen the Corn Maiden once, yes:
I seen her in my dream...
I seen that Corn Maiden Lady -
I picked her harvests in my dream...
But you beat her all out, baby -
Best Woman I ever seen....
_______________________

Repeat First Verse, once or twice!
_______________________

FOOL IN THE WATERS...came as a poem...from hearing that I am not that great an elder, on account of how I raised my kids...(who I personally think are the most imperfect/perfect three folks on the planet!)...anyhow, I thought to myself: Well, of course not! I'm not the Wise Crone Type at'all! I'm just the Old Fool Type, and I Do love bein' That, for certain!....

FOOL IN THE WATERS


I have become a writing fool
fool in love
fool in friendship
fool with family

I want to be
more than ever
fool
fool for love
mostly
then
fool for life

fool for water
I want to be
in water
more and more and more

cold waters
where I am deliciously
alone

hot waters
in deep
in touble
on purpose

troubled waters
confused and
confusing
flying blind over
these waters
swimming
purposefully
through
these waters

warm perfumes
of water
salty and sweet
love waters
in my mouth
my body
in my hands

cool healings
of waters
through my tired
fingers over my
heated brow
across my
pain soothing
kind

baptisms of water
holy holy
bringing blessed
life
to tired souls
my tired soul

but foolish
I want to be

foolish
in water
most of all

I want to
dive too deep
swallow too much
swim too long
paddle
the
entire
Mississippi
with
this
foolish
man

rest by
this lake
making love
in the mud

over and over
foolish
at last

and
all
because
of
love

and
water