Thursday, February 22, 2018

A'Compassing we Go, cough cough - Poems: Garbage Night - Breakfast at Helene's - Night Houses

So, when last we spoke, I was having trouble sleeping, which might explain why I'm up at - lemme check the time - 3:22 am, tho I certainly slept quite a bit.

Sarah Lynn had called me at 11 pm. Said she finally got my Valentine.

I'd eaten at a Chinese rest. and the waiter gave me a take-out carton of white rice.

She's finished with the revisions of her book, so can come and visit! The little girl who left for Brown and never came home again.

When she called, I was up in the bedroom watching the Nutrition Shows. This one guy, Michael Gregor, MD, is very funny or as Dan would say, Hilarious.

Image result for michael greger md
But the person who introduces him feels he's gotta tell us he's funny.

He's a vegan. Cluck cluck cluck! Would I have to give up my chicken soup?

Oh! The worst thing he said is Don't eat eggs!

I've eaten at least 730 eggs this year. The reason I'm not dead is it hits you later. And he tells us the diseases that will kill us all.


Was talking to Nancy on the phone
when I remembered, "Nancy," I said,
"gotta get off. Tonight is Garbage

The squirrel-proof garbage can
I bought in Hatboro stands sentry
next to the plastic green "recyclables."

Like those Russian kachina dolls, I've
placed in one salad container, an empty glass
container of cinnamon sticks, the plastic
lid for chicken soup, and a plastic tab
to pull open the olive oil.

Papers. Papers. Papers. All in cartons
from the Giant I've begged from Joe from Hungary and
Jack the Produce Man.

Not a word to my son-in-law Ethan, but
he lent me a book on our Caribbean
Cruise. Obsession was the name. I fanned
the pages one last time and threw it
in the trash.

Whenever I come downstairs in the wee hours of the morning, I open up my front door and look at all the houses on the street. All dark except for Carol. She may sleep in her BarcaLounge chair.

Image result for barcalounger

I try to visit her every month or so. She has a great gift of gab. Last time I was there I got a neck-ache
from looking at her from the side.

My friend Harriet sent an email about The Great Influenza Pandemic. Read about it here, from Stanford University.

  An emergency hospital.


Well, you better get here fast,
she humphed over the phone.
Maybe she'd make me those
Davey Ire Pancakes you bake
in the oven.

I parked in the drive and
came in the door by the deck.
The dead hosta were swinging
into life and songbirds
soared hither and fro.

Aaron was at his usual
place at the table, finishing
the crossword. He barely
looked up as I yelled Hello,
so into his own world was he.

"Pick out your coffee cup,"
said Helene, so I did from
a white drawer. "May I pour
it myself?" I asked.

"If you don't make a mess,"
she said.

Hard to believe but her entire
family is dead. Aaron, their
two children, and she, Helene,
biding her time at Rydal Park.

As my sister Lynn says, Live,
love, and be happy.


Scott and I watched the 2012 film CARNAGE, I checked outa the library.

Image result for carnage film
I'd never heard of David C Reilly before. Roger Ebert gave it a good review.

Okay, I'll open and close the front door once again, to see if all the houses are still there, and then I'll call it a night.


One little head pokes itself out the front door.
As dark as coffee grounds.
Inhaling, she smells the good aroma
of the neighborhood. Everyone's
light is off, except Carol's. Bill's
been dead five years now.

As always, when she looks outside
in her polka dot PJs, she wishes she
could run away. Anywhere will do.
The library to return the movie,
to Helene's old house in Maple Glen,
to the Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania
where you ride the old steam train
that serves a magnificent lunch
with black coffee and dessert
while you try not to fall
over people's knees.

Click here for the Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania.

How bout dat?

Entrance to Views
Entrance to Suicide Cliff
Entrance to Hell
Entrance to buried stash of 300 million guns owned by 350 million Americans

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