Blog Archives

Fathers’ Day In Quarantine

Ya know she smiles loud
Cuz she’s got all them teeth
But don’t take my word for it
I’m pretty far from beyond belief
All I truly know is better days coming week after next
I know this to be quite true
Cuz it says so in my daughter’s last text

Daughter conquers the days
With a lot more stress than I do
Pouring over hiragana squiggles
A looming test is messing with her artist’s do—
A perfect score in her Summer Japanese (!!!)
Brought my little brilliant girl
Down to her very studious knees!

Soon one far day she’ll marry
And support her brilliant kid’s studies
Skinned knees, broken arms,
Betrayal by once assumed close buddies.
And I’ll wish she finds all the joys
Such awesome women usually discover
Uncovering men buried inside hapless little boys

Tis quiet over on the cul-de-sac
‘Specially when I turn down my stereo
But it’s another Fathers’ Day
So turning Yes’ Starship Trouper to eleven, doncha know!
Singing along with the best dead rock stars
But what on Earth can we do—
We can’t go to restaurants, movies, or bars

An unassuming liquid red
Half fills this humble glass
Cabernet Sauvignon from over Sonoma way—
Wish I was sharing with my own sparkle-eyed lass.
But now time to rewash this mask:
Such varied fun in lockdown
Filled with this new time-worn vital task.

Yes please do come on over
To my wee cool place,
Always room in Alexandria
For one such as you and your happy pretty face!
We can play all the latest games,
Or uncover our darker tragedies,
Then smartly resolve them with neat effectual reframes!

Ya know he smiles loud
Cuz he’s got all them flossed teeth
But don’t take my word for it
I’m pretty far from beyond belief
All I truly know is better days coming week after another
I know this to be quite literally true
Cuz it says so in a text from my encouraging but distant brother

[PS Stay home, stay safe, practice the best proper social distance
Or may a gravid moose find relief in the spaces within your pants!]

Passion’s Wreck

Another wink inappropriately sent across the room
As I savor the dream of the salt at the base of your neck
Though there is no way this goes ever anywhere
Adrift in the Acadien gutter of this passion wreck

Swirling skirts reel to a hot cajun beat
The Artsmophere swells with Sebastien pours
Wanna go home with me, my belle jolie?
The answer is always: mais non, tous le jours

She glories in the morning, then rules the night
But my quiver emptied long many years ago
But Love never wearies as longing grips ever tight
Though my sad offer would hardly sate a wound so

So unreconstructed in Alexandria, my tall glass half full
Dreams and wishes mingling in a nice vigne rouge
Grateful for my morning porridge and café gratuit
Let’s get to it, cross that bridge at Baton Rouge

Scream down the 10 all the way to New Orleans—
A quarantino not quite following these isolation rules
65 and dying even before comes this Chinese bugger
Not sure anyone knows, besides, they’re all tools!

Again, still half marveling at the sweat beading about your neck
Dreaming in an Acadien gutter fouled by Old Love’s passion wreck

Quarantino

So, it seems I gave up coffee
And I WANT a cup RIGHT NOW
To return to a fresh-dripped state
Of magnificent equanimity
Seems six feet apart
Isn’t far enough away
You want meaningfulness
I just wanna play
So, Bob be a-singing
Right out of Delacroix
I earnestly proffer love praises
That only seem to clomp and annoy
Turning away to wash my hands
But I’m the only one here—
I’d rather my glass of merlot
To your frosty mug of beer.
But I’d wish to walk with you
Those years ago when we really loved,
But gotta change the kitty litter;
Thusly I’m now COVID-approved engloved!
Aqualung and I are looking for her
Far enough away to preserve the fantasy
Yet close enough to perturb the very air
Tossed tresses caressing languid eyes [oh so very fancy]
Back inside my little apartment
7PM Thursday in deliberate sub quarantino
Dreamt of eyes pulsing from behind a 95 mask:
This has got to end—momentum arresto!

Ashland Train Day 2019

Their wine glasses met
Their lips were sure to follow
She of undetermined glances
He an escapee from yonder hollow

A chance meeting in the Artmosphere
A renowned Cajun dance band
He asked for a dance
Later she took his hand

Up the forty-nine
A full moon recumbent
Light paused and cloud scattered
Allowances taken and full spent

A rainy morning greeting
Toast and coffee? Sure…
A drive around Alexandria
Another three hour tour

Returned to Lafayette
Keen promises to meet again
A thought: do you like trains?
Have you ever heard of Ashland?

A Gulf Storm Warning

We know nothing much good happens after the midnight hour,
So I hold little hope for these late writ lines.
Knocking about my Alexandria, at last, cleaned bower,
Remembering a lost love this old heart forever pines.
Storm warnings now up all along the Gulf coast—
Flash floods looming to wash away the humid mire.
I believe still it’s you that I miss hardest and most.
Reunite? Tis ever beyond that which I could hope to aspire.
Dribs and drabs of longing sated in your Facebook posts,
Whether mountain stream or shells along a sandy beach.
How is it we manage to pass young memories to graying ghosts,
And that one true love flies off to be forever beyond reach?
Dishes all washed up and time to take scant wishes to bed;
Today’s crossword awaits there to challenge clue by clue.
Though instead of the Los Angeles Times, I rather be with you instead,
And on the nightstand next to us were your newest daisies blue.
This storm will pass, and Summer blue skies will again find the coast,
Though it is ever you that I will miss the hardest and the most.

Following No One

I seem to be slouching
Forward onto my hospice bed
But I still remember my name
And I’m sure the cat’s been fed
But I can’t open the Just Tart Cherry
And the shoulder’s crap as per usual
All the Senators have stopped representing
Their polity with a calm and disdain casual
Tracked my keys into the box
Outside the box of what I can remember
Who I am and where I’m going—
I’m sure Fest Acadien is still in November
Pouring the second merlot
They say it’s good for my heart
I should move over to Alexandria
If I’d ever own what it is to be smart
Summter lingers on here is Austin
Need to replace the ac filter soon
I hope the rains pass soon
I wanna to see the Harvest Moon
But I know what’s coming
And I should get ready
But I’m so tired these days
And my thoughts are unsteady
To pack all this important stuff again
Boxes in boxes, memories in stiff cardboard
I had followed her here, a path made easy
But now to move for myself, O Lord
I’ll die here in Casablanca
Or any likely foreign shore
Not ready for the next chapter
Not alone, at least; not anymore
But time to let Jack out into the night’s stew
Hey Mr Tambourine Man
In the jingle jangle morning…