2 Pounds.

      I was doing my job at the seafood counter at Miejer supermarket when she approached my counter in full Hijab her eyes all the worlds oceans glitter. She asked for two pounds of our Atlantic salmon. I pulled the slab of fish out of the cooler made a guess and cut a hunk off and than threw it on the scale. 2lbs exactly! I bowed to an imaginary audience a few times evoking a chuckle from underneath my customers mystery evoking tribal wear. As I wrapped her purchase up she explained to me that in the Muslim faith there is a moment every day where one is completely in tune with God and both his will and your own become one.

Estranged

Your son wanted you more. He had to have you. Of course you never saw how un-healthy it was. I could have been the best Step-Dad in the world and the result would have been the same:

    

                                                      ESTRANGED

estranged (comparative more estranged, superlative most estranged). Having become a stranger, of one who formerly was close, as a relative, friend, lover, ...

He began pushing me away from the very beginning. And not just me, any lover of yours who showed interest, they were just smart enough to run when they saw what was coming. Your son didn’t want you to love me, marry me, grow old with me. He wants that. And what he wants he gets. Rich kids who get everything they want will settle for nothing less.

Blue Ribbon

Who am I but a poor, misguided, unfocused, lazy, sloven, perverted whore. I have no ambition and cannot seem to take care of myself. If not for the ladies who have loved me, what of my life? I am a liar, a thief, an adulterer. I curse and act lewd wherever I go. Who am I to have ever thought anything.

All I wanted was to be your blue ribbon winner, your number one, the champion you made me out to be. But I got caught up in this world. Sex, drugs, and misery. You don't need to hear my story or my plea after all you were the only one who ever understood me.

I wonder who I am.

                                  




                                                 will I ever get back to

                                         being me?

translation

I watched an exodus of a million or more birds this twighlight before the eve. They made an undulating river coursing across the cold gray november sky. As far as I could see from the front door, and from the back door. Heading North, the opposite way I would of thought

Repeat Bay

I am pretty sure there are more empty houses than occupied ones in this town. Some of them have given up and yielded to the forces of nature leaving just one or two visible walls jutting up from the earth. Debris is everywhere. Under the bushes, trees, along the roadsides, old appliances, household goods, and whiskey bottles with the labels worn off. The buildings downtown were long ago deserted. Now there is just broken windows, weeds growing in the gutters, and more debris. The few shopkeepers who still bother to hang a sign  look dirty and worn out and the life has left there eyes years ago. There is just enough left, like the crumpled edges of an old photograph, to see that this was once the place to be. That was long ago. Now it is just for the passing through and not the destination. No one left held any hope that this seaside town would rise back up to its former glory. The bay was filled with rotting stinking fish boats that hadn't been seaworthy in years. Some of the boats were half sunk as the great ship TRUTH in her quiet splendor slipped just pass them and dropped her anchor.