Musings and Poetry

My collection of poems, stories, and fitful spurts of creative energy.

December 31, 2004

Time to Make the Donuts

Another year. Almost.
The eve of aught 5.
Really not that different from the
Eve of aught 4.

I wake, eat, work, play.
Wake, eat, work, play.
Wake, eat, work, play.
Not much is going to
Change at midnight.

Even if my job, my love life
Or anythiing else changes,
It's still just wake, eat, work, play.

I feel like the Dunkin' Donut man.
Some days with all his
Desperation.
Some days with a smile.

Aught 5, here we come.

December 11, 2004

5th Grade Memories

A young boy walks in the
Rain alone.
Tears hidden by the mist.
Anger and hurt in his heart.

On the side of the highway
A car pulls over and offers him
A ride.
He lives in a place and a time
Where that's still okay.
He knows the family that
Opens their car doors.

I'm going to my friend's.
Yes my Mom and Dad
Know where I am.
They said it was ok.

Lies from embarrassment.
They can't know he's
Running away.

His friend's parents warily
Accept more lies
That tumble so easily out
Of his mouth now.

Together the boy and his
Friend try to figure out
How he can still go to
School and not run into
His teacher father.

So naive.

It's funny. Even in the
Midst of disobedience
And striking out at his
Family to inflict the
Hurt he feels so deeply inside,
He has an odd sense of right and wrong.
Of course he must go to school.
That's what you do.

Freedom, wickedness,
Lost, yet warm at his
Friend's house.
The possibilities open up
Terrifyingly in front of him.
The lies are creeping in on him.
The phone rings.
His father is on his way.

Relief and fear.
An embrace that will never be
Forgotten.
A boy in his father's arms,
Crying,
The rain blowing in from
The open door.

It's just a beginning.
The start of a deep dive into
The soul of the boy.
What makes him tick,
Why does he feel pain
So much more than those
Around him?

Riding home with a
Relieved father, not an angry one,
He realizes what his has always
Known.

He is loved.

December 05, 2004

1 or 2

One for now.

In the movies there is always two.
Another one out there for everyone.

Stories have twos.
Books.
TV shows.

What happened to ones?
Are they allowed anymore?
Do they exist?
Are they happy?

Sometimes one is wonderful.
Free.
Exciting.
Exhilerating.
Sometimes it is lonly.
Just plain lonly.

Someone to fit under my arm.
A lap for my head.
Someone I can make dinner.
(or at least order Thai)

Isn't that what two is?
Probably fights, and hurt feelings.
Frustration and longing,
Just as much as the kissing,
Flowers and sacrifices.

Maybe the books are true.
Something must have inspired
The poetry,
Plot lines, and thousands of
Years of stories.

One or two?
Choice or Destiny.
Who knows.