I paid $13.07 for the book.
A paperback mystery novel
That I could have downloaded
For $11.50 and received within sixty seconds.
Online a used copy cost
$6.93 plus $2.00 in freight.
My book is not backlit
And offers no instant access to a dictionary.
It was the first time I had purchased a book
From Arnies Bookshop in 6 months.
I’ve loved bookstores and libraries
Since first I discovered their secret.
Even in New York you don’t
Rush through or look to dominate
Shelves and tables in a library.
And the quiet is almost catholic.
Now, this day, my purchase
Is a memorial.
Here lies the last book
That I will ever purchase over this friendly counter.
No more will I discuss,,
Alternatives to my choice
With the bookworm clerk.
Arnies is closing next Tuesday.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Running Forever
It wasn't a choice.
Running over the welcoming field
Of recently cut grass,
That seemed to reach tomorrow.
At some point running became rolling
As a gradual slope
Carried me to the foot of a Maple,
Where shade and roots offered respite.
Squeezing my eyes shut
Brought the smells and quiet
That enveloped my surroundings
Leaving me fantasizing a permanence.
Soon enough guilt and parental expectations
Carried me away from the dream...
Back to where those who patiently waited
For me to act my age.
Running over the welcoming field
Of recently cut grass,
That seemed to reach tomorrow.
At some point running became rolling
As a gradual slope
Carried me to the foot of a Maple,
Where shade and roots offered respite.
Squeezing my eyes shut
Brought the smells and quiet
That enveloped my surroundings
Leaving me fantasizing a permanence.
Soon enough guilt and parental expectations
Carried me away from the dream...
Back to where those who patiently waited
For me to act my age.
It Doesn’t Play in Butte
It matters only if a warm breeze can tempt,
Or if the outdoors, a seamless extension
Of your comfort zone,
Expands to include an orange sunset.
If air that tastes fresh and clean
Is of no interest,
And blue-green seas don't move you.
Hawaii maybe too gaudy for your taste!
This is a place where traffic slows to a stop
So that roosters
Can follow a trail of food
Across a highway.
There was a time when a drive to windward,
Through a darkened tunnel
Opened onto a verdant hillside...
And a promise.
Or if the outdoors, a seamless extension
Of your comfort zone,
Expands to include an orange sunset.
If air that tastes fresh and clean
Is of no interest,
And blue-green seas don't move you.
Hawaii maybe too gaudy for your taste!
This is a place where traffic slows to a stop
So that roosters
Can follow a trail of food
Across a highway.
There was a time when a drive to windward,
Through a darkened tunnel
Opened onto a verdant hillside...
And a promise.
The Racist
I know the “N” word is reserved for Blacks,
Much as Kike is the province of Jews.
In addition to upsetting minorities,
I don’t doubt that Conservatives will express righteous indignation.
Will the fully sanitized White man stand
And deliver his plea: I am not a Racist.
Did you seriously consider that he was not born in the USA?
Was Obama an unmitigated disaster after three months?
Is your primary political goal to rid us of this President?
Do you believe states should set terms of registration to vote?
Are Beck and Limbaugh right in calling Obama a racist?
What does taking back the country mean to you?
Much as Kike is the province of Jews.
In addition to upsetting minorities,
I don’t doubt that Conservatives will express righteous indignation.
Will the fully sanitized White man stand
And deliver his plea: I am not a Racist.
Did you seriously consider that he was not born in the USA?
Was Obama an unmitigated disaster after three months?
Is your primary political goal to rid us of this President?
Do you believe states should set terms of registration to vote?
Are Beck and Limbaugh right in calling Obama a racist?
What does taking back the country mean to you?
Compromise
Peace, a place where we can hate
And not act upon it.
Far better we take exception
Without describing the opposition as “Nazi”.
It would be childish to suppose
That good or evil exists
(Outside of a Ronald Reagan speech)
And you and I represent the latter.
I fear this wonderful country
That produced freedom for most,
And opportunity for many,
Has moved beyond it’s zenith.
Dialogue can lead to compromise
Only when we are willing to see
The “other”, though frail and faulted,
As an alternate voice.
A voracious virus
Deadly and unconscionable
Has entered our system.
It is incapable of moderation or reason.
Compromise is taken for weakness.
Followers of the beast are relieved of nuance,
Needing only the clear vision
That comes with fanaticism.
And not act upon it.
Far better we take exception
Without describing the opposition as “Nazi”.
It would be childish to suppose
That good or evil exists
(Outside of a Ronald Reagan speech)
And you and I represent the latter.
I fear this wonderful country
That produced freedom for most,
And opportunity for many,
Has moved beyond it’s zenith.
Dialogue can lead to compromise
Only when we are willing to see
The “other”, though frail and faulted,
As an alternate voice.
A voracious virus
Deadly and unconscionable
Has entered our system.
It is incapable of moderation or reason.
Compromise is taken for weakness.
Followers of the beast are relieved of nuance,
Needing only the clear vision
That comes with fanaticism.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Man with Dreadlocks
I don’t really know the guy.
Maybe thats not true.
I’ve passed him on my morning walk about six times.
We’ve only once gone beyond “Hi”.
He had long, really long dreads.
They extended to his knees.
“How to you keep them clean”, I asked.
I don’t remember his answer.
I don’t know his name,
But the guy has a great, good smile.
This morning I was moved to hug him.
Just seemed like the right thing to do.
He responded, as I expected,
Taking it as a really friendly gesture.
I told him he looked fine.
He said he has put on too much weight.
We exchanged wishes for a good day
And continued walking in different directions.
Next time we see one another,
I’ll ask if he wants to have a cup of coffee.
Maybe thats not true.
I’ve passed him on my morning walk about six times.
We’ve only once gone beyond “Hi”.
He had long, really long dreads.
They extended to his knees.
“How to you keep them clean”, I asked.
I don’t remember his answer.
I don’t know his name,
But the guy has a great, good smile.
This morning I was moved to hug him.
Just seemed like the right thing to do.
He responded, as I expected,
Taking it as a really friendly gesture.
I told him he looked fine.
He said he has put on too much weight.
We exchanged wishes for a good day
And continued walking in different directions.
Next time we see one another,
I’ll ask if he wants to have a cup of coffee.
After
Gun-metal gray, with a two foot chop,
Describes the San Diego shore line.
Remnants of last night’s hotel’s dinner
Sit on the sand, awaiting tonight’s resurrection.
A tall bar table for two,
With a white tablecloth hanging unevenly,
Awaits the morning crew,
Who will remove the evidence.
A dozen folding chairs,
Resembling the aftermath of a New Year celebration,
(Leaning, lying askew, or erect, awaiting someone’s butt)
Looking to have failed a group support project.
Three pigeons move slowly across the surrounding sand,
Pecking at a potential source of delight.
Six others stand to one side
Possibly discussing tonight’s menu.
Within an hour this camera-ready photo
Will be replaced by children with sand pails,
Joggers of all shape and sizes,
And a break in the morning fog.
For this moment the picture is pensive,
Undecided on its degree of sobriety.
Phantoms of the drinkers and talkers
Fade as I move into this last eternal day.
Describes the San Diego shore line.
Remnants of last night’s hotel’s dinner
Sit on the sand, awaiting tonight’s resurrection.
A tall bar table for two,
With a white tablecloth hanging unevenly,
Awaits the morning crew,
Who will remove the evidence.
A dozen folding chairs,
Resembling the aftermath of a New Year celebration,
(Leaning, lying askew, or erect, awaiting someone’s butt)
Looking to have failed a group support project.
Three pigeons move slowly across the surrounding sand,
Pecking at a potential source of delight.
Six others stand to one side
Possibly discussing tonight’s menu.
Within an hour this camera-ready photo
Will be replaced by children with sand pails,
Joggers of all shape and sizes,
And a break in the morning fog.
For this moment the picture is pensive,
Undecided on its degree of sobriety.
Phantoms of the drinkers and talkers
Fade as I move into this last eternal day.
Girls Crossing the Street
Be cool.
Look like you have a purpose
Jesus Christ you are an idiot!
Just cross the god damn street.
I continued to look at addresses
Eyes always to the right
Until the 3 girls on the other side of the street
Passed.
14 years old and girls terrified me.
I could not speak to them
I was invisible.
Hell.
Look like you have a purpose
Jesus Christ you are an idiot!
Just cross the god damn street.
I continued to look at addresses
Eyes always to the right
Until the 3 girls on the other side of the street
Passed.
14 years old and girls terrified me.
I could not speak to them
I was invisible.
Hell.
Sand Castles in the Sky
Imperial Beach Sand Castle competition
Was an annual event
That I had not witnessed,
Despite my four years in the neighborhood.
Sure, I’d seen the videos
Portraying everything from surfers riding cooperative waves
To war scenes.
All replete with exquisite detail.
The 100 sand sculptures were works of art.
Carved in a most unforgiving medium,
Subject to collapse from the slightest vibration.
Ephemeral by design.
Today, on my eights birthday,
We were going to the festival
And the very cool sand carvings.
It was going to be great.
Almost 400,000 people visit
The two day event.
But few, surely no more than two or three, can report the truth.
It is a phony.
Pictures of people thronging the beach,
Photos of the contesting entrees,
Selection of the best of extraordinary creations
Are all fake.
We arrived at 11:30,
Only to be told the contest would not begin before two.
Then Saturday morning morphed into Sunday afternoon.
We returned to view the results.
Moving briskly to the first group offerings,
Expecting to be wowed by the brilliance...
Bam, nothing here!
A beach of uninterrupted undisturbed sand.
Having been cleverly diverted
By the late starting time was one thing,
But finding no renderings two hours after closing
Lead to an inescapable conclusion: It never happened.
But I did not cry. I merely questioned God’s existence.
Was an annual event
That I had not witnessed,
Despite my four years in the neighborhood.
Sure, I’d seen the videos
Portraying everything from surfers riding cooperative waves
To war scenes.
All replete with exquisite detail.
The 100 sand sculptures were works of art.
Carved in a most unforgiving medium,
Subject to collapse from the slightest vibration.
Ephemeral by design.
Today, on my eights birthday,
We were going to the festival
And the very cool sand carvings.
It was going to be great.
Almost 400,000 people visit
The two day event.
But few, surely no more than two or three, can report the truth.
It is a phony.
Pictures of people thronging the beach,
Photos of the contesting entrees,
Selection of the best of extraordinary creations
Are all fake.
We arrived at 11:30,
Only to be told the contest would not begin before two.
Then Saturday morning morphed into Sunday afternoon.
We returned to view the results.
Moving briskly to the first group offerings,
Expecting to be wowed by the brilliance...
Bam, nothing here!
A beach of uninterrupted undisturbed sand.
Having been cleverly diverted
By the late starting time was one thing,
But finding no renderings two hours after closing
Lead to an inescapable conclusion: It never happened.
But I did not cry. I merely questioned God’s existence.
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