Coffeeshop Writers' Group - One, Two, Three, Four, Five Show up - An hour at Kohl's Dept Store - My poems: Deer Bounding Across Davisville Road - Final Resting Place - Pill Bottles

 Linda wrote one of her lovely religious poems, a retelling of some lines from The Letter to the Ephesians. Some people think the Letter was written by Paul, but that belief was challenged in the 18th century. My opinion? I go with the challengers.

Donna brought in a very true-to-life poem about leaving her son's development and getting lost on the way home.

I can certainly relate!

Nothing worse than getting lost. It's one of the few things that makes me cry.

She beautifully conveyed the horror of the situation.

Martha, an unpaid advertiser for Coca-Cola, brot us "Techno Comes to Church." As a member of the 2,000-strong Calvary Church in Philmont, she sat in her pew following along with the sermon on her APP. She got "harrumphs" from a young woman sitting near her and deep interest from an older gentleman.

We all loved the piece and wouldn't have changed a word.

Laughing Luvin' Carlana bedecked in flowers. She brot nuffin in cuz she and Charlie just bot a new computer with the Vista Operating System. She'll get used to it, I'm sure, but I sold my Vista-operating-system-Dell computer to Scott, b/c I couldn't stand it.

In Carly's TOPS Group, Take off Pounds Sensibly, she has members write 50 things they love about themselves.

Twenty would suffice, I said.

No, she insisted. You've gotta come up with 50.

We went around the table telling a couple things we LOVE about themselves. Me and Carly voted for creativity. This is something we couldn't have done if other group members had been present.

Each time we come, we make up a whole new entity.

Was just on my bike for 10 minutes watching a show about the GREAT Mr. Rogers. Did you know he was bullied as a kid? Why? B/c he was overweight.

His parents told him to pay no attention to the kids who followed him home from school shouting at him b/c he was fat. "We'll get you, fat Freddy," they said.

He told an interviewer that he didn't take c/o those feelings of anger and resentment until many years later.


One of his sweaters is in the Smithsonian.

Now perhaps you can understand the importance of his show, which ran from 1968 to 2000, some 895 shows.

It deals with FEELINGS. It is okay to have feelings.

He and one of his friends also condemn our culture for our need to buy stuff, protect our stuff, buy more stuff, which distracts us from our primary purpose on earth: to learn who we are.

And, of course, our pace of life - faster faster faster - is rightfully taken to task.

Children today are not allowed to have silence. They have TVs in their bedrooms, he said. When I was at my son's I could not believe what I experienced at the kitchen table over lunch.

Each child had an iPod in front of them. Max paid no attention, but Grace barely looked up to speak.

Began a short story last nite - was up until 2 am finishing it - then went on the bike b/c I overdosed on popcorn.


Pay no attention to this man I found accidentally on a great art website - it's in LA, home of my friend Marcy Belsh, the only person in the WORLD with that name.

Hi Marce! (Not even Marce will deign to waste her time reading this.)

My short story The Mailman was about a lonely woman who lusted after her mailman. Scott liked it and so did most of the group.

Before I present my new poems, lemme show you what I had for dinner.

Melissa Clark of the NY Times made a video of this onion, cabbage, sausage dish. I was starving when I came home and this was delicious. Carmelize the onions, then put in the cabbage, and then the lamb sausage which I bought at the Old World Sausage Factory in Southern France.

I mean in Hatboro. Also add bay leaf and cider vinegar. Scrumptious! Took it over to Scott's to eat with him while he watched the orig Hawaii-Five-O on Netflix.



I parked in the Produce Junction lot and had one more very difficult errand to perform.

Going to my car, a woman in a black Jaguar pulled up next to me.

Dyou know where Kohl's is? I asked.

Yes, she said, I just came from there.

Make a Left at Street Road, she said, it's after TJ Maxx and thus and such.

I told her I'm returning my Shark Vac which stopped working.

I HATE my Shark Vacuum, she said. Hers also doesn't work properly - it spews dust everywhere - ah! to be understood! - she's gonna look again for her receipt, which I saved, thank goodness!



My once-new Shark which worked for less than a year. Here's my post about it. For my eyes only.

This time I ordered a Bissell. 

They wouldn't give me my money back, but gave me an $80 store credit. What? I'm gonna return and buy $80 worth of stuff, Fred Rogers?

Of course I'm gonna get my vac then and there. Okay, so it took a while. Spoke to Aaron in southern Texas, with the help of Laurie, the sales girl.

We were talking at the Writers' Group how Marf, Carly and I have such a way with words.... we luv talking to people.

I lightened the load for myself by chatting a bit with Aaron while he was doing his paperwork. "I'm not hungry," I said, "b/c I just ate some peanuts."

The first poem HAPPENED to me while going to my library book club on Thursday. It was a miracle an oncoming car didn't hit them.

The last poem, about the dead animal, happened to me this morning when I was coming home from the Giant after seeing my grandkids.

When I got home I called the police and asked if they could scoop it up. No, said Dispatcher 89095 - they don't give u their real names (?) - but she'd call animal control.

Ah, here's Ruthie now. Sweater by Ralph Lauren, which I bought when my friend Yin Liu was selling Le Coffee Salon in Hatboro, the crossroads of life.

DEER BOUNDING ACROSS DAVISVILLE ROAD

Tails up

quick quick

bound across

straight ahead

head for the green

we’ve done this

dozens of times

rest is at hand

danger first

part of our day

for millions of years

some will make it

most will not

head for the green

cool water we’ll find

soft resting places

for our tired aching bodies

home from the journey

the journey across the street

and those fearsome tanks

that would us kill

come my braves

come my darlings

almost home

almost home. 

PILL BOTTLES

All, an off-brown

I’d prefer an off-green,

anything but that color

that bodes the sick

the dying

death

From across the kitchen

I toss the bottle of

mag ox into the trash

Plunk!

It’s dead now

used up

I’ll buy more from

Erich or Hannah

My pill bottles

are at least as long

as my intestines

Can you picture them

glued together and

stretching up to the moon?

See them arcing

on their way up

Crane your neck

look higher and higher

In the movie The Wolf of

Wall Street, he took

forbidden Quaaludes

cleaned out his insides, first,

to get the very best high

he took too many

crashed his car, lost his

wife, and ended up in jail

Me, I just imagine

taking mine all at once

what would that be like?

Lying in my bed

beneath the ceiling fan

listening to Yo-Yo play

the Cello Concertos

I feel an unaccustomed

bliss.

FINAL RESTING PLACE

What is it this time?

A big ‘un, that’s for sure

A plump goose with feathers flying?

His wife howling by the pond.

See its long striped tail?

That’s all my eyes see

Until, big splotch of red

where Rocky Raccoon

has met doom,

his final resting place

the middle of Davisville Road.

We don’t even give them

a proper burial

Their urn is not

by fire but by

car tires, run with

red, flatten them

until they’re nothing

Like they never existed

never climbed up trees

or knocked over our

garbage cans to find

food inside

hardy little creatures

Go in peace.