The Next Smile

She pushed a stroller-for-two

That could have featured a sign boasting

“No vacancy”.

Twin girls, maybe a year old, contentedly suck their thumbs.

My smile and “good morning” were not received well.

Sadly, this young mother may have read too many headlines

And voided eye contact by looking down.

For here stood a stranger.

One of the saving graces of seniority is acceptance.

Surely a man who could no longer concern himself

With passing 75 can, with a warm smile, allay any fears

A young mother might have.

Solomon’s wisdom seems to have limitations.

I doubt that I will feel constrained

When the next mother and stroller-bound child

Cross my path… chances are I will have forgotten this incident.

Walking The Dogs

 It's not nearly as tough as herding cats.

But two older dogs can be a chore.

One is not interested in leaving her piece of carpet,

The other complains with the voice of a crow, loud and off key.

         

With protests duly noted we advance to the sidewalk.

After covering six feet, it’s time for an inspection.

Rose, my older mutt, wants to remain at this tree.

No doubt several dogs have watered this tree recently.

Doobie thinks it safe to proceed, but with caution.

Another three feet brings us to another inspection site.

In the course of ten minutes we cover twenty feet,

And Doobie calls it quits.  

He has done his toilette and wants to go home.

We negotiate, Rose is indifferent, busy with a scent,

But Doob’s wont move. Maybe a treat would work?

It’s never worked before, but maybe this time?

Five minutes later, little has changed,

That miserable dog hasn’t moved,

I’m sitting on the grass, and out of treats.

I know! Lets retrace those twenty feet.

The Cousin I Never Knew

Bobby Fried was a cousin on my mother’s side. We interacted irregularly until we were in our early thirties. We had adjacent camp bunks for one summer week in 1950. When our counselor tossed my mail short of my bunk I reached over Bobby’s bunk to get the stuff and Bobby punched me in the mouth, breaking a tooth. I never found out why.

We were eighteen when we went to Miami in June. Clever right? We meet two girls and Bobby immediately went for the prettier chick. Our combined score: 0.

I was married at 23. My mom invited her cousin, Bobby’s dad, and family, to the wedding. Bobby asked if he could take a bottle of wine. I told him it was my new father-in-law who bought the booze. Bobby said he did not know the guy and would I ask. I said no.

At thirty we exchanged visits. I saw him, and his British wife, in Santa Rosa, California.  He stayed with us for a week, when I lived in Honolulu. He was a working abstract artist, who did album covers for big named rock groups. I had a lighting store. We had a terrific time, aided by some fine Maui Wowi.

We were thirty-two when I called his wife to confirm Bobby had died of heart failure. Two weeks earlier he had his first big show. It was at the Brooklyn Art Museum. The critics were merciless.

Gratitude

This may have been our last cookie morning at the Del Coronado.

 (For the past week Andy has been unable to drink coffee.)

His new Hospice team starts today.

I hold a, probably mistaken, belief that good is possible.

I walk a dying man home, grateful for the privilege.

Today Andy was uncomfortable, a bit dizzy.

He wanted to head home and I wanted to walk him.

I’ve enjoyed his company for two years.

It’s not often that you or I chance to offer comfort,

And know it is simply appreciated.

Halfway to his condo we stop to sit on a sunny ledge

and listen to the ocean.

The sounds of small waves occasionally subsides

Before the next set of one foot wavelets reminds us

Of a thousand other moments where quiet has been part

Of the unexpected gift of the “now.”

Our shared recognition of the absurd holds us captive,

Until Andy zips his jacket and we walk to his home.

A brief conversation with Andy and Dee, his wife,

Pushes my ego to an unhealthy level,

Which persists, as I write this poem.

My gratitude is limitless.

For The Love Of Family

White and Tan, curious and tiny with no leash,

I’m guessing the puppy was two weeks old, and under two pounds.

It sat between three little girls;

The oldest appeared to be under three.

Her one sister might be two and the crawler under one.

The mom had just parked on the far side of Ocean Avenue.

Thrusting the compliant puppy into the smallest child’s arms,

Mom picked up the baby and started across the wide

And heavily trafficked avenue, with the other two kids

Holding hands and attempting to keep pace with mom.

I saw mom and baby, with clutched pup, reach the curb. 

Within seconds all four plus one were safely on the sidewalk.

I should have seized the youngest child, and

The diminutive puppy and headed for I- don’t-know-where.

It Will Not Matter

It will not matter, but then what will?

Neither my life nor my species are sacrosanct.

Our planet has a predicted expiration date.

Surely we humans will not experience that foreclosure.

Epicures, to which arguably all life forms

Inevitably pay tribute, do not offer more,

Or less, than the sanctified or disadvantaged.

All belong to time, which cares little for its passengers.

If we name a krill, Michael and a whale Moby,

Can we pass judgment on which to label "a cause,”

Except through the Epicureans looking glass?

Best to smile and have another pistachio.

Comparing Notes

40 years and we stand close,

Reaching for small pleasures

And hoping to stay in touch with

Values that might add sunshine.

I find his voice an octave higher

And like a road less traveled,

I best explore its contours

For the sounds are intriguing.

I had a settled image

Of my friend of 40 years,

But that vision is altered, as if in another dimension,

A more urgent voice commands my attention.

I stop at a restaurant table of strangers

And share the good news.

The zabaglione is remarkable,

To not taste such dessert is surely tragic.

My friend counsels restraint, but his concern is soft.

I abide, for the other dinners are now alert

And can make their own evaluations.

I smile as if something wonderful has happened.