The air is crisp
The dark is beckoning
I look up at the clouds
Searching, always searching
For a glitch in the mundane
A tear in the fabric
Something out of sync
And not of this world
Sighing, somewhere between wonder
And disappointment
I go on home
Maybe tomorrow night…
They let me in, they let me out, nevermore to be without.
Fortunately,
after Kindergarten, my parents decided not to send me to Public School. They enrolled me in a Lutheran School where I
had attended Sunday School and Church. I
am eternally grateful to them.
By
the first grade I was already aware that I didn’t exactly fit into a
group. The classroom, the lunchroom and
the playground made it clear that I was destined to struggle with school. The rules made no sense to me and on the
whole, it was a chafing experience.
Everyone was a stranger to me.
By
contrast, outside of school, there were plenty of children for me to play with
on my block and at the park. On weekends
I played with my cousins and their friends too.
You might say, I was a player. My
mother taught me how to ride a bike but hopscotch, jump rope, and all the other
games we played I learned from a lot of kids at the park.
Once
when I was at the park an eighth-grade girl saw me by the swings and came over
to give me a push. She went to Trinity Lutheran and was an outsider like
me. She looked so much older and her
maturity came through in the gentle kindness she showed me. She called me “Honeechile” as she lightly
pushed the swing so I could glide a little.
I still remember thinking what a pretty way to address someone whose
name you didn’t know.
Later
I learned her name was Eleanor. Whenever
I saw her at school, she was alone. Some
of the other eighth-grade girls made fun of her dark complexion, hairstyle and
unfashionable clothes. She never
responded to their barbs, but I saw the hurt in those deep-set eyes of
hers. One day in the schoolyard she saw
me and knew I’d just witnessed a similar incident. She walked over and began to comfort me.
“Honeechile,
don’t pay any attention to such nonsense.
They can’t harm me even if their words hurt me.’
“Why
are they so mean to you?”
“They
just showing off to each other.”
The
following year, I was a second grader and Eleanor a student at Bryant High
School. I still saw her once in a
while. She was still overweight and
unfashionably dressed but she had grown in stature and wisdom. It has now been decades since I’ve seen her yet
I’ll never forgot that noble character and the tenderness she spoke into my
little ears.
Yvonne A.
Apr 2021
I have over the years written much prose, but not poetry. I did however write two poems which I did love and will share one of them with our group. My wife Ethyl and I had attended an Elderhostel. A woman gave an excellent lecture on flowers. Common sense dictated a thank you, but I thought more was in order. The woman’s name was Laura Meade and I wrote and gave her the following poem.
Seventy five by one hundred, detached white brick colonial house in Queens. That was what the New York Times ad said. Every other house we looked at was on a forty by one hundred. We bought the house. The backyard was what sold us. In early April, the magnolia tree was in full bloom filling the air with a sweet perfume. Best of all was the white blossoming tree. This provided patio shade and the yet unknown bounty of plump red sour cherries. June would unlock that hidden secret. Something for nothing. Fruit that did not come from Key Food. Remembering my childhood years on the Catskills farm where the huckleberries were our something for nothing and the apples in the apple orchard were our something for nothing.
We passed the pond at the Prospect
Park Zoo
Filled with quacking mallards
and a silent swan or two.
We passed some dingoes and
donkeys and sheep.
Some baa-ed, brayed and howled.
Some fast asleep.
The peacocks swished by us
with royal displeasure.
Tree birds sang to each other,
but gave us no measure.
Youthful no longer, we had to
sit for a rest
And watched children who romped
with vigor and zest.
The pandemic and quarantine
had worn us away.
Spring sunshine and breezes
gave us the gift of today.
We talked and philosophized,
we conferred and we mused,
Discussing politics and
protests, the victims, the accused.
Into our grave conversation of
trials and troubles
Floated down a surprise of
soft, round, shimmery bubbles.
A buoyant young boy freed spheres
to the air
Iridescent bubbles bound here
and then there.
He blushed as we turned, and thought
us irate,
But when we asked for more
bubbles, he did not hesitate.
He blessed us with bubbles; he
blessed us with joy.
He made us feel youthful, our sweet
bubbly boy.
Empty gas station, fuel for thought,
along this long Boulevard of the automotive age.
From Packard showrooms to Auto World, car lots and sales rooms, every make and model.
Decrepit gas station, serving many no more, disservice without a smile, we've shut our door.
No more, nonetheless,
it used to be a Hess…station,
and all across the nation, highways under duress.
Pumping no gas today, Bikes are on the way,
Bikes are here to stay, empty gas station,
we may be forced to ration.
No one drives anywhere anymore.
Nobody drives you to your door.
Just get me home via scooter or Uber.
The road trip is gone,
And so is the future.
RM, 4-23-2021.
It was early; I watched my cat sitting on the window sill watching the birds preen themselves. He was transfixed on the birdie's cute brown wings outstretched being picked at by sharp beaks.
Neither the cat nor the birds noticed me drinking in what comes naturally to birds and cats.
It was so quiet; I felt grounded watching what is so usual and ordinary.
I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
The mercurial night alternated
from a frenetic cacophony to an eerie silence and back again. As expected, the
lightning preceded the thunder, cleaving random sections of the night sky. The
air was heavy with expectations…my own. I stood on the abandoned railroad
tracks, waiting for their arrival. It was always the same.
Trevor Deeds knew his
history, that much was for sure. McConkey’s Ferry, where George Washington crossed
the Delaware on Christmas Eve 1776, to surprise the Hessian mercenaries celebrating
the holiday, was a good example of that knowledge. As the Hessians became deep
in their cups, Washington’s men quietly ferried across the river, attacking at
dawn, and waking the superior fighting machine from their alcohol induced
slumber. The lesson was not lost on Trevor.
Trevor’s job at Hangar
18 in Wright Patterson Air Force Base in Dayton, Ohio provided him – after
twenty two years of service – with intimate knowledge of the facility and close
ties with many people who worked there, both civilian and military. He had seen
a fleeting image inside the Blue Room, a top secret off-limits area restricted
to military personnel. It was rumored that the Blue Room contained the debris
from the July 8,1947 U.F.O. crash site in Roswell, New Mexico, as well as the
lifeless bodies of the mangled alien crew.
On Christmas Eve 2019 while
Trevor moved around the pristine research area, he could tell that something
was different as the soldiers were unusually friendly and talkative, having
received a big grin from one grumpy, irritable old soldier who never cracked a smile.
As Trevor talked to Corporal Smith outside The Blue Room his inquisitiveness burned
to see what was inside.
“How do you like your
job here Trevor?” asked the Corporal.
“I like it just fine Sir,”
Trevor answered.
“Yes, it is not a bad
place to work although all the military protocols and procedures can be
daunting at times,” mused the Corporal, slurring his speech. The soldier then took
a slim flask from his pocket taking a swig and offered it to Trevor, who
refused the offer.
Trevor slid his foot
across the smooth stone floor nervously as the smell of his floor cleaning chemicals
mixed with the odor of the liquor creating a most unpleasant scent.
“Would you like to take
a peek inside the Room?” inquired Corporal Smith.
“Very much Sir!” said
Trevor with excitement in his voice.
“Ok but I will have to
swear you to s…s…secrecy if I let you in Trevor.” said the Corporal slurring
his speech in his increasingly inebriated state.
“Yes, Sir you can count
on me!”
“All right then!” said
the Corporal installing secret codes as the door silently opened with a swishing
noise.
“Go take a look Trevor
“, said the officer beginning to get drowsy,”But don’t touch anything!”
Trevor walked into the
room after passing through the outer chamber and donning a sterile suit. The
interior of the room had a bluish glow and the walls were of a polished
stainless steel. Thick glass panels in the walls revealed debris from the crash
site.and in one area cryogenic compartments contained the remains of the alien
crew members laid out on steel slabs, whose anatomy were being studied.
“Merry Christmas!” said
a voice behind Trevor.
Merry Chr….” said
Trevor his voice trailing off as he turned around to face an Alien being holding
a Martini glass.
“They died in the
crash, but I’m sure you have already heard the story”, said the alien.
“Yes, I know,” in an
uneasy, nervous voice. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. Relax
Trevor I’m not going to hurt you”, said the Alien.
“You can call me Cactus.
The soldiers and scientists gave up long ago on trying to pronounce my name. I
was found impaled on a cactus that the soldiers removed me from in the desert, it
saved my life from the force of the impact but it was extremely painful and I
almost died from my wounds. I still have ghost pains from that event to this
day.”
Cactus stood about four
and a half feet tall, with hairless grey skin and huge eyes like Audrey Hepburn
without eyelashes. He was skinny and sinewy with little muscle tone and a
largish head. He was definitely not GQ material, at least not the earthbound edition.
Two small holes served as nostrils and a slit was all he had for a mouth. His
mode of communication was twofold as he had learned to speak English but also
communicated telepathically, synthesizing both forms of communication.
“Trevor, do you want to
take a ride on the ship that the engineers have constructed based on the debris
from my craft? It is primitive but still gets you where you want to go.”
“Sure!” said Trevor.
“Ok let’s go!
“exclaimed Cactus.
In a separate area a
metallic saucer hovered a foot off the ground. Trevor and the humanoid entered
the vehicle, Cactus opened a retractable door in the ceiling by waving his hand
and then they disappeared in a flash as the sleeping Corporal entered R.I.M.
Stage.They shot through Earth’s atmosphere and passed through the planets like
a Q ball flying around a billiard table after the break. Leaving the solar
system behind, they streaked into the black void of interstellar space,
arriving momentarily at Alpha Centauri and after a quick loop around the
massive star, shot on to the Orion Nebula, that stellar nursery, where hundreds
of new stars were being born. For the major attractions they visited Rigel that
stunning blue sapphire which was their first destination. Next, they streaked on
like a slippery steel ball in a pinball machine, and on to the scarlet supergiant
Betelgeuse followed by Bellatrix and Saipan, finishing up with Sirius the Dog
Star quite busy, happily trailing Orion the Hunter through the night sky. As they
toured the heavens Cactus told Trevor the earthly names of each star. He
greedily consumed this knowledge. Although they were traveling at many times
the speed of light Cactus’s martini never spilled a drop. Soon the alien
realized that they needed to get back to Earth before their disappearance was
detected and they turned home entering the roof door and were back in the Blue
Room.
Upon arrival they
noticed that something had changed as objects had been moved around. There were
dispensers of something called Purell, a hand sanitizer, and in the distance,
soldiers were all wearing face masks. Alarms and sirens were ringing and at a
newly installed desk a calendar on the wall read January, 2021!
Cactus realized his
mistake of having forgotten that this ship did not make the necessary automatic
calculations to return in the proper space time. The humans had made this a
manual calculation!
“Hurry back into the
saucer!” yelled Cactus.
The two partners jumped
into the saucer and took off in a flash as Cactus explained that traveling at
the speed of light slowed down time on the ship. They had been gone for half an
hour but two years had passed on Earth! Cactus, on his third Martini, had
forgotten to make the necessary calculations before entry to sub- light speed.
They shot out to the Oort Cloud then headed back having made the necessary calculations.
Cactus sighed in relief as he began to feel the effects of his first alcoholic hangover,
swearing never to drink again.
“I’ve set time to
return us to the minute before Corporal Smith offered you a look inside the Blue
Room. Don’t take him up on his offer. I will allow you to retain your memories
of our excursion but you must never mention it to anyone. It would be a nice
gesture to get a cup of black coffee for the Corporal.”
After saying goodbye to
Cactus, Trevor found himself talking to Corporal Smith.
“Corporal Smith can I
get you a cup of black coffee? You look a little tired”
“Thank you, Trevor, if
you don’t mind, I could use it.”
Jim
April
2021
Once upon a time there was a young boy named James Smith who was invited to his friend Matt Jones 10th birthday party for April 16, 2019. James got ready to go and took a short cut through the Dollerington Forest.
He entered the well-worn path his feel knew so well. After about an hour he realized he somehow lost his way. Sitting on a mushroom he rested. His eye caught a hamster dressed in jeans with a blue jacket and red shoes running under a juniper berry bush.
‘’How odd!’’ James spoke into the air. He got up and followed the colorful hamster, who led him out of the forest two years into the future, 2021.
‘’Where am I?’’ he questioned, feeling scared he took his favorite stuffed toy out of his back pack. Lisbeth the red lizard.
A ghost appeared, James asked the ghost ‘’what is this place, it looks familiar.’’
The ghost was not a nice ghost; he is a stuffed toy eating ghost.
‘’Today is April, 16th 2021.’’ Said the ghost keeping his eye on Lisbeth.
James noticed the neighborhood was familiar, he recognized the trees but not the houses. The houses are made of cheese and biscuits, peas and carrots, eggs and potatoes, red peppers and sausage.
‘’I am hungry’’ James forgetting to hold on to Lisbeth and started nibbling a little from each house.
The hamster was watching and the ghost grabbed Lisbeth put her in a cage to save her for a barbeque.
‘’Lisbeth’’ shouted James. He turned to the ghost. ‘’ That’s my toy?’’
The ghost just shrugged.
‘’Give Lisbeth back to me.’’ cried James.
The ghost flew high in the sky with Lisbeth locked in the cage.
‘’Wait ghost I know a toy store where you can eat as many stuffed toys as you wish.’’ Said James.
‘’ store is where I came from, lead the way and I will show you where it is.’’ Said James.
This was a very greedy, not nice ghost and agreed to lead the way to this delicious store.
Ghost said ‘’No fooling around or I will eat Lisbeth!’’
‘’No fooling around, I will show you.’’ Promised James.
hamster in jeans and ghost with Lisbeth in a cage marched forward through Dollerington Forest, past the juniper berry bush back to the familiar path out to where James began.
‘’Come ghost, follow me, the toy store is just one block away.’’ Said James.
There it was, the toy store filled with every toy a child would want including a stuffed toy display of hundreds of juicy, yummy, delicious stuffed toys. Enough to fill a ghost’s tummy.
Ghost was so amazed and astonished he dropped the cage with Lisbeth. James grabbed her and ran away.
Ghost slipped though the building as ghosts do and started eating toys. He got so fat that he could be seen by everyone and so bloated he could not move.
James ran to Matt’s house just in time for cake and candles. He tried to tell what happened to him but no one would listen except Matt.
‘’How is that possible?’’ said Matt.
Before James could answer warning sirens blasted, the local volcano was erupting and a tornado of unusually smelly wind whipped around the neighborhood.
James and Matt and family and friends made it just in time into the basement for safety.
Strange sounds and smells of rotten vegetables oozed through the slivers of openness between the doors and doorframe.
No one said a word out loud; luckily there was enough preserved food to feed every one there. Two years later they left the basement. It is now the year 2021.
Completely taken by surprise the neighborhood changed. The trees had not changed but the houses were made of cheese and biscuits, peas and carrots, eggs and potatoes, red peppers and sausage.
Hamsters wearing jeans and blue jackets and red shoes ran in and out of juniper berry bushes and ghosts eating stuffed toys flew in and out of trees.
As it is sometimes people like James who are lucky to visit the future and come back to talk about it.
The next time someone tells you their story no matter how strange, don’t dismiss it, just listen you may be hearing some extraordinary prediction of the future.
Georgia
4.16.21
It was a
beautiful Spring morning when I came upon 6 ½ Avenue between 6th and
7th Avenues. I became fascinated by this sign denoting both a creativeness
and sense of humor not usually found in the halls of the N.Y.C. Department of
Street and Road Signage, a lighthearted reflection of a recent less serious
time in our city’s history.
I sat down on a bench to observe this unique intersection. It was an innovative creation which divided the extremely long block in half for people wishing to cross the street in a safe manner without taking the long excursion to either Avenue. On the north side of this crosswalk an interior mall had been created through the building with shops and eateries along the way, existing on the next street.
I opened my bag
acquired at a nearby bakery removing my coffee with Half & Half and a black
and white cookie encased in glazed Royal icing meticulously divided in half
along the diameter of the pastry. I looked up at the large, standing old-fashioned
clock before me which was just turning twelve noon, the dividing line between
morning and afternoon. It was March 20th, the dividing line between
Winter and Spring. The coffee had a strong flavor like drinking liquid
Hazelnuts.
Coming towards
each other from opposite directions were two men. The man traveling west was
dressed in older worn clothes and he appeared to be downtrodden as if his opportunities
were setting, however there was a spring in his step and a smile on his face.
Under his right arm was half a loaf of bread in a clear bag. The man moving
east had similar clothes but they were new and in much better condition and it appeared
that his opportunities were rising. He had a clear bag of bread under each arm
that appeared to be fresh, as condensation had formed on the top of each bag suggesting
bread recently taken out of the oven that had been hastily bagged before
cooling. His face, however was sad and careworn with large bulbous tears
streaming down his cheeks. As the two men approached the crosswalk in front of me,
I could hear the poorly dressed man singing to himself, “It is a beautiful day
and I have this lovely bread to bring home to my family!”
He continued on
about this recent good fortune. As he could now clearly see the face of the well-groomed
man, he asked him to explain his state of despair.
“Why are you
crying?” asked the poor man.
“Because I don’t
know if I have enough bread,” said the Two Loaf Man.
“Do you have a
large family to feed when you get home? Inquired the Half Loaf Man.
“No, I live alone
with no family, I’m a bachelor” said The Two Loaf Man.
“Well then your
thinking is half-baked,” said the less fortunate soul. “If you don’t mind me
saying so. I have a wife, four children and extended family waiting at home for
this bread to eat, and I am thrilled to have it to bring home to them. You are
crying with a loaf under each arm! You should be thankful of how lucky you are!”
The Two Loaf Man
stopped crying and wiped the tears from his eyes with a handkerchief. He paused
silently for a minute.
“Thank You,” he
said handing one loaf to The Half Loaf Man who will henceforth be known to the
reader as the One and A Half Loaf Man.
The One and A Half
Loaf Man thanked him with great appreciation, then they wished each other a
great day and after an elbow bump continued on their separate ways. After all
the day was only half over and the sun would not be setting for quite some
time.
Jim
4/2021
