On My Game

While it’s still morning

I have taken my brain to new heights.

Unfortunately, the air is too thin

And my synapses are starving.

I decided my morning puzzle 

Included an “x” instead of a “+” 

Resulting in twenty minutes of futility,

Followed by self directed denunciations.

Taking out the garbage can,

I was surprised that it was not heavier

Until I returned to the kitchen

To view the week’s trash awaiting further instructions.

I did not go for my morning walk 

Wearing one sock...

OK, but I removed the other one

Before must folks noticed my fashion statement.

There is no truth to the rumor

That I locked my keys in the car---

With the motor running.

That was yesterday and it doesn’t count!

Marines

Marines 12/11/11

Three men and one woman

Who had seen combat

In Iraq and Afghanistan.

Shared their stories.

No longer active, each had been marked

By the war. None entirely unfavorably.

Charley, a tall young man, recalled

“Eliminating a threat” and saving his buddies.

Roberta is now working on her doctorate.

Mom was not happy with her Marine enlistment.

It was before 9/11 and getting an expensive education

Could happen under the “G.I. BILL”

Peter was the last to leave the war,

In 2009, and still in one piece,

Having served the last of his eight years.

He hoped for understanding from fellow soldiers.

Cliff, probably high strung before the war,

Was not being helped 

By his presence upon the stage.

Words tripped over themselves in his need to make contact.

Yes, they had experienced 

Disorientation when Iraq 

Failed to prove itself an imminent threat,

To the United States.

Sent to fight a dictator 

They stayed to battle 

Citizens who did not want Americans in their country,

And assist those who would accept help.

It was the buddies who left in tact,

And those who were now a memory

That meant almost everything

To these returning warriors.

Henry's Watch

Henry’s Watch 8/22/11

There’s a gene missing.

Since I recognized the merit

I’ve paraded its absence

By trumpeting my apparent higher values.

Part of the magic of being non-materialistic

Is the appearance of indifference

And slightly puzzled

In the face of a very expensive watch.

In truth, I am uncertain

That gene deprivation is real.

A watch costing more than my car?

How many can your wristwatch seat?

I should at least appreciate the craftsmanship

Of Henry’s very expensive watch.

But, it does not charm me.

I feel no call to congratulate Henry on his achievement.

Still, the learned delight of being untouched

By Henry’s wrist display 

Gives me a quiet satisfaction:

I know I could easily drop a dime on him.

How many could the cost 

Of that watch feed?

Does that sound sanctimonious?

It certainly should!

For love of the game

I will continue to rejoice

In the inverse snobbery 

Of worn knee holes in my jeans.

Child in the Street

“Your little boy was chasing the ball into the street. 

He could have gotten hit,”

I said, wearing hard eyes 

And making no attempt to hide my anger.

Smiling a good neighbor smile,

Adam heard my complaint.

I didn’t reciprocate.

Too busy enjoying my righteousness.

I suppose he thought his seven year old,

Who was hitting the ball, 

Would control the five year old,

Or is that too generous?

If I were the older child, 

My focus would have been on the ball.

If a car ran it over 

That ball would be flattened.

Adam, after thanking me,

Scurried to the park and his sons.

I imagine the bigger boy got a severe reprimand.

I wont expect a dinner invitation this week. 

Grumpy

Two young adults

Enjoying a bike ride down the oceanside walkway,

Encroached on my side of the path.

I was forced to move from my god-given unmarked lane.

First I smiled by way of suggesting they looked cute.

As they went past I of thought of homicide.

I walk here every day.

Then the thought: I am a dwarf named Grumpy.

Earlier, my neighbor parked outside her garage.

What hutzpah!

Why can’t she park in her garage?

Very insensitive!

Britain is having riots.

Somalia is experiencing mass starvation.

My neighbors kid died in a fall down his stairs...

But I am esthetically disturbed by a car in a driveway?

I’ll blame my thinking on age.

Alternately, it could be my computer’s hiccup.

It’s probably my manic/depressive condition.

I should hang a sign on my door.

“Here lives a bore. Leave money”

Coronado Lights

Small red lights sit atop the eleven condos.

After sunset,

Incoming planes, heading for the Navy airstrip,

Must hold their descent until past the buildings

Off shore a vertical line of white

Silent pinpoints, move south.

Patrolling our pacific coast,

Discouraging illegal passage from Mexico.

The penetrating beam of a search light

Illuminates the grounds

Between the hotel and the ocean.

From my rooftop perch the night appears safe.

There is something of a beautiful lament

Offered by the whispering wavelets 

That oh so gently complete their journey,

Expending their last breath in the sands embrace.

Soon enough day will conquer the dark,

Marking the extinction of the warden’s lights,

The return of Sol,

And the engines that annihilate the quiet.

Sand Castles

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 insubstantial medium,

Subject to collapse from the slightest vibration.

Ephemeral by design.

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 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.