He watched the guy tenderly caress
the body and carefully remove the
black top, fold it neatly out of sight
and gaze lustfully at the naked frame
of his shiny, new four-wheel drive
convertible. The guy told everybody
that he just loved that vehicle and
the man assumed that the guy did.

He watched young people sitting out-
side of a frozen yogurt shop, sliding
their tongues around the various
flavors and toppings mounted on the
sugar cone catching melting yogurt
before it slid down the cone onto
their laps or ground. One girl, with
great gusto and utter sincerity,
declared she just loved salty cara-
mel more than anything else in the
world and the man assumed that she
did.

The man sat at his son’s graduation
ceremony listening to the speaker’s
commencement address. She spoke
of love and used words like “affect-
ion, respect, recognition, commit-
ment, trust and care.” The man look-
ed around at the soon to be college
graduates and saw them gazing lov-
ingly into their communication de-
vices oblivious to the live comments
of the speaker. The man looked back
up to the platform and saw faculty
in their academic robes and doctoral
hoods staring down trying to hide
their communication devices. The
man knew that if asked to describe
how they felt about those devices,
they would say that they just
loved them. The man assumed
that they all did.

Equivocate —
the word for our
times, at least for
everything as
of late
including
prevaricate.

She has had her problems
starting with a father who
did things a father never,
ever should do to a dau-
ghter. Then she popped
in and out of several
marriages, had some kids,
wrote songs and then one
day in her eighth decade
she popped out again,
got a facelift and enter-
tained younger men, a
lot of younger men.
Nice going, dad.

The grill coals spill
Out on the wood deck

And the deck burns
Down starting a fire

In the house burning
It to the ground asphy-

Xiating those sleeping
At the time killing all

Four occupants and then
There are the tragedies

Of the mind where peo-
Ple cause such disasters

By omission or com-
Mission and he is glad

To have arrived at this
Advanced stage of life

Without having done
Any significant damage

Of which he is aware,
At least, or committed

Grave commissions
While he pours water

On the wood deck under
The grill just in case.

On further reflection, he
wondered if he had falsely
accused those tempting de-
lights for whom he does pine —
roasted radishes and
Brussels sprouts when
the source of his
grumbling stomach was
the martini and wine.
And so he hopes to
make it through the day
and by five be just fine
perhaps refraining from
libations at least until nine.

The smiling, farm fresh, white and red roasted
radishes swam with the sweet lemon curd, lan-
guished beside goat’s cheese,
looked up at him as if to say
I’m waiting, please.

Then tempting, saucy, organic Brussels sprouts
naked and soaking up the salty, soy sauce
also languished lovingly with a
come hither look as if to say,
I’m waiting, for you, too.

And so he yielded to temptation and
partook hungrily of these naughty
morsels of the night posing as
innocent, farm fresh, bodacious,
herbaceous delights.

And the next day, with buyer’s remorse,
he endured with great regret the Brussels
sprout and red and white radish revenge
and yet, and yet, perhaps tempted
to return to the table again.

An old-fashioned
sense of responsibility
is what the T.V.
detective called it
and in that instant
the man knew what was
missing from so much
he was experiencing
lately in relation to
the lives of, of all
things, old people
like himself, who had
been taught otherwise,
just the opposite,
in fact.
Why? Good question —
why. To the point,
succinct. One word.
“How” is science’s
bailiwick, good
question — how,
To the point,
succinct. One word.
“Why” is God’s
bailiwick,
but God
isn’t saying
so the man is left
with speculation.
He speculates —
fear. Of course
fear. Always fear.
Succinct. One word.
Fear.

In the morning
he goes online,
reads two meditations
and the poems of the day.
About half way through
the poems, written
by the best and brightest
of the twentieth
not to mention the
twenty-first century
(which might be a
bit premature
given that we are
only fifteen
years into it),
he has an irresistible
urge to write
a poem not
unlike what
he just read
and then read out loud
to his wife,
and so he does
for practice at
writing poetry and
then he posts it
usually without
attribution
unless he actually
uses some
quotable words
which he
religiously would
put in parentheses
and then he thinks
to himself
that almost
everything needs
parentheses —
maybe everything
does. Perhaps
life is but a
parenthetical
phrase or at
the very least
deserving of
an asterisk.

The dog with the torn ACL
dreams of running in his sleep.
How do we know? His shaking feet.

Walking the perimeter, passing
all the exhibits, showing support,
affirming a historic, landmark
decision, stopping to say hello,
seeing people who don’t see him
except to offer the perfunctory
nod and move on to important
matters, he thinks to himself, he
could vanish right this very min-
ute and it wouldn’t matter, in
fact, he has vanished and invisible
he watches people flit here and
there doing things they believe to
be urgent and needed. He thinks
of himself as floating right up to
the door of the car whereupon
he comes back to earth, climbs
in and drives away unnoticed.