Meeting, sorta, in a strange place for us to meet...
Every morning
I sit down to write and
This writing,
Flows from my
Brain and fingertips
Through my keyboard
And onto my computer screen
And I get
What I get.
But sometimes,
Nothing
Very happy or
Encouraging,
Nothing fun or funny
Seems to show up.
So today I thought to myself,
Think of something happy
And write about that!
I looked around
And spotted my big coffee table
Mark Twain book.
And remembered once,
A few years back,
I went into a tiny library
In Alaska
And I went to the fiction
Section and found
Trueman (me!) and
Twain
Right there in alphabetical order
Next to one another
On the shelf.
Made me laugh out loud.
That was then
But this is now… and
Reading Mark Twain’s
Autobiography
Is a shocking
Thing.
All his life
He wrote with humor
And love and
Self-deprecating wit and wisdom
But by the time he reached
The telling of his own life story
That shit was gone.
No doubt, age played a big role:
He’d buried 3 of his 4 kids,
And his wife;
His childhood memories
Were probably fading
And though the world had given him much,
It had taken away even more.
His hopes for
And belief in
Human beings
Was finished.
As for his writing
About his memories of his life:
The lines were still clear as ever
Sharp and biting,
Yet anything but joyful.
They had turned
Rancorous,
Angry,
Humorless
And pitiless.
Twain
Had clearly given-up
Had tossed in the towel
And said,
what’s the point?’
Funny and fun?
Forget about it!
And for me,
Seeing my STUCK IN NEUTRAL
Next to his,
Yeah, sure, I smiled
Back then,
And now?
Sitting here this morning
I wanted to say
That there are funny
Things,
Fun things
Out there and in here —
Things that can still
Guide our hearts
Instruct our spirits,
Make us smile and laugh
And help us get up again
To seek
And live and love.
This poem started
With the intention
Of convincing you of this;
But I can’t think
Of anything
Right now
Other than old Mark Twain —
And Twain sure isn’t going
To help me
Make that whole happy-ha-ha thing,
Feel true or work.
So, hey, Mark
Move over brother,
I get it. I really do.
We all do at some time or another.
I’ll be with you soon enough.
But not quite yet, nope . . .
. . . not yet
