When I’m Driving on the Freeway
There are very few pure universals in modern American life, but there ARE some...
When I’m driving on the freeway stuck behind some geriatric in a Subaru Outback going 58 mph in the 75 mph passing lane, I’m screamin’ “Drive it or park it!”
When I’m doing 40 mph in a 30 mph zone and some teen-beat-asshole
is tailgating me I’m like “Where’s the Fire?”
And then, when I consider his age and mine (yep, I’m also geriatric like the guy in the Subaru) I sigh a
little, but then I slow down to 29 MPH.
I Know Some of You Have Seen This Place Before
Life isn’t always safe and easy
Safe. Safe, for now anyway, at the exclusion of the blade the evaporation of glinting, shimmering; your fat, beating carotid boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-booming against a black night sky — without the blade, goes the red of the rose, heat, blood, passion — goodbye to the blade — goodbye to that plan good evening, goodbye cheek, thigh — an apple of Adam safe at a throat from expulsion for one more night. Safe. For now.
The Safety of Distance
A perspective on space between ourselves and others
Step back and step up … or Step up And Step back. The order Doesn’t matter. Only the Willingness to Accept And the capacity to understand That the need for distance Matters, when your emotions Are engaged And your passions aroused. Distance Is often all you need To save yourself From making Avoidable Mistakes.
Just how serious does a stroke have to be?
This guy I never met but read about in the newspaper dropped dead from what was described as a “pretty serious stroke.” That’s what the article called it, “pretty serious.” Yeah, I’d say so. Okay, maybe the dead guy went to heaven to hang out with Baby Jesus and God and all the other good people for all eternity, “Don’t worry about nothin’, don’t give it another thought.” Seemed to be the theme, “No biggy, that’s for sure. Nothing to see here, nothing to think about…” But I couldn’t get past calling a stroke that kills you, “pretty serious.” Maybe it’s just me but, yeah, I’d say so.
What does it mean when someone says you’re “over-sensitive”?
A rather all too brief consideration
Hmmm? I suppose it can mean lots of things but often it’s that they don’t like how you’ve felt and reacted to something they’ve said or done and/or it’s because they’re a fuckin’ asshole; these are NOT, BTW, mutually restrictive categories.
Pressing to say something magnificent.
Isn’t ever any good because it never works. This poem, case in point. Magnificence comes, if ever at all, only after a lotta heavy panting, sweating and effort, like most every other kind of Coming.
“Stand-up for Science” at the Homophobic Chick Fil A
You can’t make this shit up
So I’m heading over to Walmart for outside delivery to pick up our groceries, and I’m following behind a shiny, new Silver Kia Soul that looks like a giant but friendly toaster sporting a single, small bumper sticker in the back window “Stand up for Science”.
To me a very reasonable position to take in these MAGA, Anti-Vaxxer, Mask-wearing-resistant times.
Drawing closer, I see that the driver is a woman, maybe in her 30’s, perky, casual ponytail, cute little grey schnauzer type doggy sticking a happy head out the passenger side window.
I like her.
I like her dog.
I don’t mind her car much.
She takes the same right turn I’m taking and I think she must be headed to the Walmart pick-up spot, too.
See, she’s a sister, a fellow resister a right-thinking a-ok, kinda…
But then, as if to drive a stake into my heart, she signals right turn again, and turns down a street that leads, almost exclusively, to the only Chick Filet in town.
“Stand up for science” huh?
At one of the grossest, most homophobic businesses this side of Hobby Lobby in The Tangerine Imbecile’s ‘Merica?
Conclusion: We are a very confused nation.
Not even our dogs are safe from our ambivalence nor do we possess any consistent set of principles and ideals nor any capacity to follow thru on moral clarity —
And, btw fuck shiny, new, silver Kia Souls too!
(And we’ll leave shopping at Walmart out of this for now.)
The Simple Pain of Human Relationships
Human relationships become, as Bukowski once observed, discouraging at times. Whether in the realm of political viewpoints, personal conduct, coming to a dinner invitation on time, saying, “It’ll just take a second, Hon,” or “It’s not a big deal, but can you help me move?”
A special category to me is parents who think everyone else must be enjoying, as much as they do, their children’s “adorable antics.” In this list of disappointments, we can ferret out our special hell without even trying, because the choices are endless. That said, it might be better not to ask me how I’m feeling today. You don’t want to hear it anymore than I want to think about, much less discuss it, but I can assure you it won’t end up with a “have a nice day” either given or received.
