It didn’t go well with
the new primary.
He worried people
would think it was
because the primary
is a female, but
that’s not it. It is
simply oil on
water. Someone
said, “Her style
is not the same
as her predecessor,”
as if to excuse
her behavior.
He said, “That’s
strike two. If it
gets to three
then I’m gone
with the wind
and with Rhett
Butler, I will
say, ‘Frankly,
my dear, I don’t
give a damn.”
The primary’s
assistant said,
“Actually, you
should go now.”
All he could
think to say was,
“Thank you.”

There is a difference between
monologue and soliloquy.

At root they sound the same
but they don’t play the same game.

The soliloquy
is ever so sweet to me

but the monologue?
Along it prosaically slogs.

The divine soliloquy of the Dane
sounds poetically poignant if a tad insane.

Most preachers  preach dreary monologues,
which go on way too long.

Would that a preacher quote                                          
the very pleasant notes

of Shelley, Keats or Joyce                                         
upon which to rejoice.

It might scandalize the parishioner
but others might stand and cheer

for the preacher who sees
the poetic beauty in soliloquies

and avoids the prosaic slogs
of most monologues.

You’ve heard about a bad hair day.
Well, this is about a bad April Fool’s Day.
It is the day he died twenty-six years ago.
And as I sit playing Solitaire, he sits next to me.
That’s not an April Fool’s joke —
My playing Solitaire and him sitting there.