mmmmdclxix

3 Thang & A Tater

Drunk down w/
hogwash. Taste
bud stroke of
tanned meringue.

Potluck a hoot:
a medley of fruit
soaked in Cool
Whip, casserole

of beans green,
whimsical assort
ment of sandwich
meats. Pray for

a doggie tray to
bring back to
the shack. Zap
a corndog for

midnight
snack that
harks back to
a hungry dog

on leash who
caught wind of
the wiener,
barks back.

mmmmdclxiii

If He Old He Ageless

Welcome to the future!
[Insert present year here.]
Please allow me to explain.
Go back eight years. Look

at my life. Take a picture.
Then come back. I’m con
vinced if you compared
without bias you’d find me

younger now, and with
significance. But I’ll admit
that conviction is fraught
with problems based on

personal perspective,
which lie today as much
as any lie’d be made
tomorrow, and more

than twice as much
as it might’ve yes
terday when I
was but elderly.

mmmmdclxii

RB

I’m not the most astute, most
logical critical thinker. I’m keen
on saying that logic rules my

life, and I believe that true; 

but I spend a lot of my life 

on the less reasonable side 

of the fence. Most happily. But
it now occurs to me that I’ve
been wrong about something

I have taken for granted, taken
as truth, and I suppose I have 

my reasons for being so, for 

most of my life. Apologies for 

the obscurity of this thought, but

it’s a bit relevant to me. Which,

I’m now thinking mainly is,
more than anything else,
indicative of my age, it’s

probably something that
in even admitting would
surely diminish my

relevance, tiny as it
has no doubt always

already been. Hm...

Now that I am think

ing further about it, 

it seems sensible to

me that I not even
tell you what this
new and still

seemingly absurd
or upside down
revelation is. It

turns out that
I’m not that fond
of feeling tiny,

so my left-brained
sensibility veers
sharply to the

right until a
crash and burn
wipes the slate clean

and I lose track,
forget the path
that got me here

and whatever
the catalyst that
got me going.

mmmmdclxii

Secret Menu

Isn’t this fancy?
I’ll try the pie.

It sounds like
just the thing

to juice up an
evening that

summed up
and averaged

out seems like
most any other.

And off this air
of mystery goes,

or so I say, my
grip still intent

upon the chef’s
until tonight’s

surprise. And
to my delight

the air returns
with something

all but certain
fresh from the

oven and with
sinister sleight

of hand the top
of that special

secret pie’s gone
gone vertical and

is smashed most
messily over my

pie-shaped face.
Sticking out my

tongue through
sourpuss lips

I find it tastes
delicious as I

scrape a bunch
of it into my

mouth. Peach
pie—oh, my!—

I’d only now
wish for a bit

of ice cream
atop it, atop

me, I find
myself

wanting.
Me, still

here, but
with a bit

of pie stuck
in my eye.

mmmmdclxi

How Next Outdo a Dullness?

How turn a week of boredom
into a comedy in three acts,
or maybe five? When such

a fete is extra tough that’s
when it’s needed most. It’s
a quarter to two in the middle

of night and I sit aslant and
sidewise at my desk (which
I submit as basic evidence

that this life’s in need of
revving up by the humble
admission that by desk I

mean bed) and in such a
contorted anti-ergonomic
crumple I am typing. But

distinctly not revving, as
I—what?—I am at basics
just describing this ennui.

When one becomes so
practiced at shaking up
the system, at disturbing

status quo, then at what
lengths does one in
actuality need to go to

find it once again dis
turbed enough to spike
but even slightly the

adrenaline? Why must
there be this constantly
assessing, reevaluating,

so as to shift approp
riately with altered
velocity in a strange

or yet unknown
direction?

mmmmdclx

Fitness

Fruit
Loops!

An ex
pletive.

Stuck in
My head.

Like the
Fire alarm,

Now, 1am,
Life gets

Interrupted.
Emergency.

Sudden,
Intermittent,

These past
Three years.

Covid. Cancer
Surgery. Knee

Sprain (the
First of these

Real life
Crises). An

As yet diagnosed
Digestion issue

With upwards to
Ten emergency

Room visits
Which ceased

Over a year
Ago. Diabetes.

No more sugared
Cereal for me,

No Fruit Loops 

Nary a carbonated,

Soda, save zero
Sugar varieties.

Routine kicks in.
Pills of a morning.

Pop in to the
Doctor’s office

Every other
Month or so,

Anxiety
Subsiding,

Blood pressure
Regulated,

Cholesterol
Down, tap

A vein for a
Vial or three

To ensure
Clean fuel,

Engine’s
Maintained,

Innards aren’t
Over-taxed.

Meanwhile,
I’m still here

Living well,
Or so it

Seems to
Me, here

At the end
Of this chapter

That still feels
Strange and

New, but I
Know these

Pages they
Turn, this

Light, it
Burns and

I’ve done
My best con

Vincing
Myself

Life’s at its
Best for me

Despite the
Menacing

Moments
And the

Lengthening
Wake that’s

Left, the
Finite

Passages
Of time.