Broken Toys

ABC

   MRE
          IED
               XYZ

Alphabet and nursery rhyme

     time gone bad.

Where is the lad

Who played with tin soldiers

     and plastic tanks?

Disappeared

Into the ranks

      

     Of those who serve and never return.

Schoolyard gulls

  Soaring

            Silent

                      still-winged spirals

Like a mobile over baby’s crib

 

The Avian Lounge Singer

Every morning at 5 am, he plays the smaller venues – telephone pole in my back yard, tree in my neighbor’s yard, another neighbor’s back fence. I hesitate to call him a second-rate singer; he certainly is adequate. But he never has any original material. He covers all the greats but doesn’t offer anything of his own.

His mate ooh’s and aah’s and coos, “Honey, do that Springsteen one again, puhleeeze?” She is into flash and surface; she doesn't mind that he hasn't any thoughts or songs of his own. Superficial little lady. He is a good provider though. They build a nest, hatch eggs, and later fly away.

“I’ll be here all summer. Tell your friends. Stop by for a drink. Do you have any requests? Bono? Sure I can do him.”

California Musing

People dancing, drumming, chanting.

Clouds gather, darkening, lowering, threatening.

Rains come, nourishing, nurturing, soothing.

People retreat to the Kiva, chat and smoke herbs.

Better to stay outside, disrobe and dance in the lovely rain.

Sit under a patio umbrella, chat and smoke herbs.

Blow smoke out to the rain.

Welcome Brother.

I was lonely while you were gone. Its not your job to deal with my loneliness. It's your job to love me unconditionally, eternally, completely.

It is my job to deal with the loneliness.

I am glad you are home again. Its not so lonely around here now.

Please understand

I don't DISlike her. It's just that I don't LIKE her. I don't trust her. I don't feel a chemical bond with her. I will sit on the sideline. I will willingly cuddle and watch, but NOT participate with her. I am happy that you enjoy her and I will watch. But, then, I will come home with you. OK? Tuesday, I may only cuddle and watch. I'm not sure if I want to participate. OK? Is it  OK? I love you and want you to be happy. I really can't bend and give and slide and not be true to me. OK?  Please say it is OK?

Act of Rebellion?

I was three weeks shy of my 18th birthday when I gave up my virginity. I didn't lose it, mind; I know exactly where it went. For whatever reason, I had decided to give it up sometime before the date when it would have been, arbitrarily, legal to do so.

Unbeknownst to my designated "recipient", the process was all carefully orchestrated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jim and I had been dating for about a year. He was much older than I, around 22 to my 16, and glamorous because of it. He was a reporter for our local morning newspaper; back in the day, most metropolitan areas of any size had both a morning and an evening newspaper. We attended concerts and other events when he was "comped" the tickets. We also went to clubs to dance and hear live music. Despite my age, we were never bounced out and I was exposed to a lot of very good jazz and blues.

Our physical relationship was limited to kissing and touching because he was extremely sensitive to my age and extremely reluctant to go to jail. I know he also dated other, older, women and I dated classmates; but we spent a good deal of time together and grew close as friends.

When the time came, I knew that I did not want to find out what sex was all about from someone who knew as little as (or less than!) I did; it had to be someone who was experienced and who would and could take the time to help me learn more about my own body. Jim, I decided, would be perfect for this: he was experienced, he knew me, we liked each other, he was gentle, he cared about me.

During my freshman year at college, the Guarnieri Quartet was in residence and gave occasional concerts as well as teaching and leading seminars for the advanced music students. I invited Jim to  to attend the concert and to see my school. We arranged for him to stay at the motel next to campus. After a nice dinner, we listened to wonderful music for a couple of hours; then I suggested a night-cap at his motel room. Jim was a little surprised by this, but definitely game! Conveniently, there was a liquor store just down the road from the motel and we bought a bottle of his favorite, bourbon, to take with us.

Here is where we fade to black for a while ... the exact details are for his memory and mine. I did tell him that I had signed out of the dorm for the night so that curfew (we had that too, back in the day) wouldn't be an issue. Suffice it to say, the experience was lovely, sweet, wonderful and memorable. My "first time" involved waking up in the arms of my lover rather than fumbling for zippers in the back seat of a car.