FIRST FRIENDS

After a while, it will happen- swing a lot, drag your feet,

puddles form below swings, but only if you use it a lot.

There’s a photo somewhere of me and the girl next door.

A snapshot from 1969, bundled up babies, a chilly spring.

We’re staring with beady eyes, no smiles, serious faces,

small hands clutching cold chains, no idea of the future.

Flip it over, all the white bordered photographs of the time,

have names, dates, places, and sometimes little sayings.

Words written in blue ink, a mother’s perfect cursive writing.

JUST PASSING THROUGH

Tonight I sit inside a noodle restaurant

it used to be a Mexican burrito place and

before that, in the 90’s it was a Wendy’s.

It gives me the same feeling I have when

I sit in my living room in my big brown chair

a place I’ve lived for about a dozen years.

Others lived there before, sat in the same spot

watching TV, arguing about paying the bills,

raising kids, putting up Christmas trees,

painting the walls their favorite colors,

rolling out carpet to make it warm and cozy.

In another twenty years, someone else will

call this place their home and they’ll paint

the walls their favorite color and buy a new rug.

They’ll be out front watering the hydrangeas

that I planted along the driveway and raking

up all the leaves the way we used to each fall.

One day, when I’m gone, the postman will deliver

a piece of mail with my name on it, somebody will

glance at it, read my name, toss it in the trash

and say, “must be the guy who lived here before”.

GONE DOG

I hear paws clicking across the linoleum floor,

she continues to sweep crumbs from the table,

our son still thinks he has to put the gate up.

She swore she heard barking in the back yard

and yelled, Can somebody please let him in?

Opening the door each afternoon, she expects

him there, waiting to welcome us home again.

Today I went down the Pet Food aisle, reached

for a bag of the healthy food, a habit for years

Even Cat knows he’s gone, he stares at the

corner where the little round bed used to be

He’s not stupid, you say to us, but we all know

he’ll never care to learn how to respond to life’s

most important words- biscuit, bed, outside, food.

THE TROUBLE WITH TIME

Time often makes me skip 1 of the day's 3 meals

and reminds me to take only 10 minute showers.

It put 19 spots on my hands, makes me squint a lot,

and filled my head with a 100,000 wiry white hairs.

It compels me to hurry out the door by at least 8,

insists I pay the mortgage by the first of the month.

It sends me off to bed by 11 in order to be sure and

get at least 6 hours of sleep for the next work day.

It forces me to teach 43 minute lessons in school.

It tells me to stop reading on page 156 for dinner.

It demands I quit writing to answer the telephone.

It makes me turn off a game in the seventh inning.

It gets me thinking about my 2 week vacation and

once I get there, it sends me back home. It has me

contemplate next year’s trip and what it will be like

in 15 years when I retire and I’ll travel so much more.

It nudges me along every five minutes in museums and

has me checking my watch while hiking on nature trails.

It tells me, have one for the road and turn out the lights.

It keeps me from staring too long out my back window

at blue jays, cardinals and crows. It won’t permit me to

grow an herb garden, a lilac hedge, 6 to 8 tomato plants,

or a row of 5 or 6 dogwood, cherry and magnolia trees.

It forces me to run around 4 weeks before the holiday,

then suddenly it’s over. Only 364 shopping days left!

It quickly aged our cat and dog, now all they do is sleep.

It takes me back to a specific candy store or pizza place

from my youth and has me craving cherry snow cones.

It stole my Gunsmoke lunchbox, baseball cards and

Fantastic Four comic books. It sold my Stingray bike

at a yard sale and it makes me cry while driving when

certain old songs from the 60’s or 70’s come on the radio.

Time made me say goodbye to friends and coworkers.

It took my grandparents too soon and my Dad at age 60.

In 3 years, it’ll send my only son away and off to college.

Then I’ll wait the 16 weeks until his first semester ends.

One day, time will run out for me and in 2 days I’ll have

a birthday, I’ll be 16,437 days old! But who’s counting? 

CONFESSIONS OF A MODERN DAY HERMIT

"I don't want to be alone,

I want to be left alone."- Audrey Hepburn

I prefer to do my banking online.

I don’t answer my home phone.

I avoid going to the Post Office.

I Christmas shop on the internet.

I buy groceries in the early morning.

I still say "hello and see you later",

but I wave and always keep walking.

I like to prepare my coffee by myself.

I look for a seat by the window in the

Bagel Shop and I could do without the

Beyonce music blaring from speakers.

I’d rather not listen to the droning list of

Sports Center clichés on the flat screen

TV that’s suspended from the ceiling.

I take back roads, avoid highways,

go to dinner in the late afternoon.

I don’t want a table by old people,

babies, teens or families with kids.

I park at the back of the lot, far away

from the mess of cars that cruise rows

with blinkers in search of a front spot.

And when I come out of the stores,

each and every time, I find my Jeep

surrounded by trucks and other cars.

It’s a magnet that seems to attract

them or maybe it’s a well planned

conspiracy organized to make sure

my efforts to be left alone are in vain.

IN THE MAIL

This will be the last letter she’ll write

is what it says in the opening sentence.

She has more free time in the summer

and thought of how she’d sit down and

take a moment to write some letters on

stationery, it’s been in the bottom of her

closet for a decade now in an old shoe box.

It’s the pretty little cards with kittens in

baskets and soft pastel colored envelopes.

She bought her last sheet of Forever stamps

remembering what it was like to send a note

to a friend or loved one and how they felt

finding it when they opened their mailboxes.

The news said the Post Office is going broke

thanks to computers and cell phones they’ll

fade away like clothes pins, records, and tops.

IT'S THE SAME OLD SONG

We yell now and then, when the music

from his room is too loud, too obnoxious,

too offensive- strong language and themes.

I ask him the question asked by all fathers

to their sons and daughters about the music-

Do you actually like listening to those songs?

I ask him what happened to the rock music.

Led Zeppelin, The Doors, Queen, Ac-Dc, U2.

We’d listen together as went on our road trips

.

He tells me, “That was your music, this is mine.

I listened to it because I was a follower then.”

Now he’s his own person, with his own choices.

MAYBE SOME THINGS DIDN’T CHANGE

After many years I drive on this old highway,

past the carpet store’s giant Viking, still there.

Flat wide open fields where the green beans,

asparagus and potatoes grew for the factory

up ahead, to the right. I can’t tell if it’s open.

Instead, I drive by big sod farms and nurseries.

Glad to see businesses thriving here once again.

Workers are no longer the Hillbillies of the past,

no longer Puerto Ricans, Jamaicans, Japanese

and of course you won’t see Estonians either.

Time wrote about a global farming community.

Now they are from the far reaches of Mexico,

so far away a few claim they don’t even speak

Spanish, some only know Zapoteco or Nahuatl.

Maybe they sound like those actors who played

the parts in the subtitled movie, Apocalypto.

I wonder when I see the young men in the field

if they are hollering to one another in these

languages as they wrap burlap around balls of

dirt and roots of the tiny azalea bushes, the same

way I did 40 years ago at my grandfather’s nursery.

DON'T WORRY ABOUT THE MONEY

I think of where you will go in four years.

I can see you opening up fancy envelopes

in the kitchen with your nervous hands.

I will tell you not to settle, go where you want

and don’t worry about the money, you’ll have

a whole lifetime to deal with these concerns.

I imagine us walking with you across the

campus of the school you dreamed about.

We’ll go to the college bookstore to buy a new

sweatshirt, a hat for me, a coffee mug for Mom.

MOST WINTER NIGHTS

I go upstairs before my wife, she always
has so much work to do and when I’m tired
I just go to bed. Before I climb the wooden stairs
I check the doors to make sure they’re locked.
I turn the porch lights off. I put the thermostats
down to sixty four. I peek in at my sleeping son,
say- “Catch you in the morning. Have a good sleep”.
Each night I like to open the blinds so that I can lie
on my pillow and look out and see the street light.
Sometimes I even crack the window a little bit to
listen to the cars glide by now and then across the
slick pavement from the melting piles of snow.
I close my eyes and pay tribute to my grandfather
each night by saying his simple bedtime prayer of
thanks-“Good ol’ bed.” Then I flip over my pillow
to the cooler side, feel at peace and drift off to sleep.

ENOUGH

Did he ever say,"that’s enough poetry
about the birds and the oceans"?
Did she tell herself “I’m done writing
about the animals of the forest”?
Did the others ever just give up writing
about lost loves, death and regret?

More than once I sat to write and
found myself writing about all that
happened, all that didn’t happen.
More than once I stopped myself,
clicking the red X, and the No when
the computer prompted me to save.

More than once, I put down the pen,
closed the notebook, tore out the page,
tossed the paper to the side, looked away.
I wondered why I had this feeling, now.
Does it mean that all is forgiven or
does it mean I feel like it’s all been said?

THE SERIAL READER

The play’s the thing is what you could say about
my early reading habits, Sam Shepard, O’Neill, Mamet,
Arthur Miller, Tennessee Williams, August Wilson,
Neil La Bute lined his shelves, filled his book bags.
Ten years of nothing but scripts, screenplays,
one act plays, American Theatre arrived monthly.
I dreamed of writing a play, seeing it produced,
finding my script on a shelf at the book store.

One day I picked up a Civil War book, Killer Angels.
I turned away from the plays for three years.
I moved on to the American Revolution, World War I
and II. Finally he read the Vietnam War. Five years passed,
captivated by war books, buying the all the best-
A Rumor of War, Dispatches, The Things that They Carried.
I lost track of time, but knew when my mission was over.

It happened to me again, a change of reading habits
when I stopped near the Drama shelves, reached out
and pulled a book from the shelf. I was drawn
in by poetry, a name I’d never heard before-Bukowski.
Words flowed from the page; the book had a different feel-
What Matters Most is How Well You Walk Through the Fire.
Line by line I read, relating to the poet’s words.
I got suckered in by poetry. I told everyone how
my life had become poetry, writing, workshops, classes,
festivals, readings, a blog, published in a dozen places.

Each night I park myself in my big brown chair to
crack open the latest find from the internet or bookstore.
Now I joke that I’ve got to be careful not to pick up
another kind of book, it may lead me astray and test
my loyalty to my loved ones. I read nothing but poetry.

WHY DO WE HAVE TO RAKE LEAVES?

I understand the whole process of the leaves
changing colors and somebody said they aren’t
really green anyway, but chlorophyll made by
long hours of sunshine makes them go green.
Their true colors are red, yellow, and orange.
I think what it’d be like if they stayed that way.

Somebody said when leaves fall, trees are making
a blanket to protect their roots through the winter
and when they rot it makes a fertilizer for the tree!
Makes me wonder who came to the conclusion that
the leaves should be raked, bagged, hauled away.

Why don’t we let them keep their warm blankets?
Why do we deny them their midwinter meals?
Because it’d kill the front lawn if we left it down.
Kill it more? It’s been dead since June, when it
burned up in the hot sun. Droughts and being away
on vacation has a way of destroying it every year.

PRO-EDUCATION

I planned to include a quote from Montessori
but wondered how many people knew her or even cared
what she said about children and their full potential.
I won’t begin with the old “teach a man to fish” proverb
or the slogan “A Mind is a Terrible Thing to Waste”.
I’ll start with what some of my grandfather’s words,
They can take your house, your car, even your wife
can leave and take the kids, but the one thing that
can’t ever be taken away from you is your education.

I want to tell the lawmakers and politicians,
Keep your healthcare bills, food stamps, welfare,
unemployment, Medicare, Medicaid, and Social Security.
Give us all the opportunity to get a free education
from preschool through college, technical and
trade schools, Nursing Schools, Master’s Degrees, PhDs.
Open it up to anyone who wants to go, to learn, to achieve,
to gain knowledge, to prepare, to realize their full potential.

Total free tuition, no charge for everyone, just give it away!
You’d see a society of strong, proud, independent individuals
who’d take care of themselves, their families, their communities.
If they don’t make it, they'd have nothing to cry about. No one to blame.

GETTING OLDER EVERY DAY

I get up as soon as the sun comes up without an alarm.
I put on slippers before coming downstairs.
I go straight to the bathroom to pee when I get up.
I have a bottle of Extra Strength Tums on my night table.
I sit on the toilet for longer periods of time.
I understand the value of Icy Hot, Visine, Pepto-Bismol, Preparation H, and Advil.
I take my glasses off to read and put them on to watch TV.
I have trouble hearing what people say in a crowded noisy room and nod sometimes when I don’t know what they say.
I turn The Weather Channel on three or four times a day to check the forecast.
I get tired around six o’clock, (right after dinner) and I fall asleep in my chair.
I have at least a dozen sweaters and do not hesitate to dress in layers once fall begins.
I enjoy wearing brown, navy blue, gray, and black.
I believe it is important to wear a necktie to work.
I wear a hat when it rains.
I carry a handkerchief in my pocket almost every day, but I don’t blow my nose on it yet.
I wear a sweatshirt that is about twenty years old.
I plan to buy white Chuck Taylor high tops and black cowboy boots. I want the two kinds of shoes that I was forbidden from getting as a child.
I prefer wearing shoes to sneakers.
I don’t wear my newly purchased shoes home from the shoe store and I don’t run through the aisles with my new sneakers on.
I wear a watch every day and I feel strange if I don’t.
I know what time it is within 10 to 15 minutes without looking at a watch or clock.
I don’t like to be late and feel that it's important to be early.
I hate to wait for anyone when I plan to go someplace.
I check the thermostats whenever I walk by them. I adjust them often.
I turn out the lights throughout the house and at work too.
I offer coworkers advice about retirement savings and tax sheltered annuities.
I am proud of myself for purchasing extra life insurance and often joke about how I am worth more dead than alive.
I tell my son not to get caught up with all these young girls. There will be time for women later and they’ll be much better. Your studies are more important.
I tell him that the sweetest fruit doesn’t always fall from the most beautiful of trees.
I enjoy watching my son play soccer and can't think of very few things I’d rather do instead.
I remind him how important it is to do well in school and get into a reputable college.
I worry every time I leave him somewhere that it’ll be the last time that I see him.
I purchase DVDs and introduce my son to old movies and classic television shows.
I don’t get upset the way I used to when my wife doesn’t feel like having sex.
I argue with my wife but we are usually not angry with each other after 20-30 minutes.
I vote straight down the line at elections because I know my wife votes straight down the line for the otherside.
I forget to tell my wife what she means to me and fail to give her the respect she deserves.
I sometimes call my wife, Mom. I called her Mother once and we both felt really weird.
I remember the prices of old food products and articles of clothing and I share these memories with younger people.
I don’t have to buy German beer in glass bottles anymore. I drink American beer in brown bottles.
I know the difference between a merlot, a malbec, and a cabernet sauvignon.
I watch my salt intake and try to avoid fatty foods.
I get food on my moustache and chin when eating soup and salad.
I quote old commercials and talk about characters from old TV shows like they're old friends.
I can sing the Lowenbrau, Miller, Pabst Blue Ribbon, and Piel’s songs from the Seventies.
I enjoy grocery shopping.
I like to do the laundry.
I buy bird seed and fill up bird feeders in my yard.
I know what sounds a cardinal, blue jay, and catbird make.
I find joy in watching the annual blooming sequence of flowers in my backyard in spring.
I like to stand and look at the yard when all the leaves have been raked.
I get excited when someone brings me a cold drink while I’m mowing the lawn and a hot drink while I’m shoveling the snow. I get angry when they forget.
I can sit and stare at the ocean for hours without swimming or doing anything else on the beach.
I check the oil and fluids in my car before long trips.
I walk around the car to check for damage before I get in to drive.
I take secondary roads and always look for an alternate route while driving. I don’t care if it takes longer, I like to keep moving.
I fill up my gas tank before the warning light comes on.
I read the prices of gas on the signs as I drive by and begin thinking about how much it used to cost.
I curse out all the stupid people who endanger my life on the roadways of New Jersey.
I talk about where I was and what I was doing when historical events took place in my lifetime.
I don’t remember people’s names but I do remember where they are from.
I am disgusted by poor service in a store or restaurant.
I enact personal boycotts of stores, businesses, and restaurants with poor service and rude help.
I check the labels to see where things were manufactured. I have given up on exclusively buying American made.
I don’t care what other people think about me and get annoyed when others suggest that I should care. I often say things like “they don’t pay my bills”, “they don’t know me”, and “I could care less if I ever saw them again”.
I let the phone ring and only pick it up after the person begins leaving a message on my answering machine. This only happens if I need to talk to them, or feel like talking to them, or if I actually like them.
I often think about my hometown and talk about making a trip to visit there. But I never do.
I see cousins and comment on how old they look.
I miss my sisters but never call them and I don’t let them know I’m thinking about them.
I think about my grandparents and wish they were still alive.
I think about my father and all the things I wish that I would’ve said to him and all the things I wish that I had done with him.
I sometimes recall kind things that my mother did for me and think about how she wasn’t so bad after all.
I don’t watch television every night. I don’t have a favorite weekly program. I don’t know what’s on.
I rarely watch the entire football or baseball game. I don’t know the standings of the leagues and divisions.
I barely follow basketball and hockey anymore.
I don’t know what times my college teams are playing or what channel they are on.
I began listening to Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra lately. I am also quite fond of Merle Haggard, Willie Nelson and Bluegrass music.
I look forward to reading a good book and don’t hesitate to go to bed early.
I don’t wear an earring anymore and I don’t spike up my hair with gel anymore either.
I started combing my hair the way I did when I was a boy.
I look in the mirror and see more white hairs in my beard and head than dark ones.
I noticed that my eyes have black circles under them and have been looking a little puffy.
I see a picture of myself and say, “Wow, I look like somebody’s Dad!”

AND THE DOCTOR SAID

Your cholesterol level is borderline,
not high, but higher than the last time.
Put yourself on a low fat diet. Avoid pork
products, red meat, greasy fried foods.
Your blood pressure is good when resting,
but it became elevated on the tread mill.
Put yourself on a low salt diet, don’t forget
to read the package labels very carefully.
Walk for thirty minutes, three days a week.

He thanked the doctor, hung up his cell phone.
Looking in the rearview mirror he noticed
that his face looked like someone who’d
just been robbed or ripped off by a crook.
He knew this meant no more buttered biscuits,
pork roll, Italian sausages, bacon cheeseburgers,
fries, chips, half and half, ice cream, or cake.

To think, I almost didn’t answer that, he told
his wife. I mean we are on vacation and
we just got here is what he said as he pulled out
onto Highway 12 from a souvenir shop’s
parking lot. It was the Doctor, he called to discuss
my physical, all the tests, the blood work.
He mumbled to himself with a faraway stare,
wishing he’d had his pork barbecue, potato salad,
and baked beans before he answered that call.