The Cracker Barrel

 -------------------------------------------------------

Recently, I went to that restaurant
The Cracker Barrel
and ordered a barrel of crackers.

They did not have them.

That's false advertising.

That makes me want to open up a store called
The Burrito Pyramid
that only serves spaghetti.

"Sorry sir. We only serve spaghetti at
The Burrito Pyramid.
If you want burritos, you're gonna have to go to
The Lobster Coffin."

Another Day Survived

with his brittle fingers buried into the hillside,
the old man pulled himself from the crevice,
his shoulders cracking like clay bricks baking in the sun.

dirt creased the lines on his face,
and as he pulled himself upwards he clenched his jaw rigid,
grinding his teeth to chalk dust. 

with every last moral fiber
he pulled himself from the depths of hell,
looking not to the horizon
but to the ground, inches before him.

and upon reaching the top
he swallowed a thick piece of air
and gave a warm embrace to the soil he'd been under
for so many years. 

and there on his knees,
bloody and burned,
beaten and spurned,
he drew a single match from his boot,
struck it across a flintstone
and set fire to the slippery, black oil that soaked his clothing
and coated his skin.

and as he became engulfed in flames
 the oil receded from
the cracks in his hands,
and the cool wind swept o'er the hillside
and across his sallow skin.

and as the flames sparked and faded away,
shimmering, flickering, and fluttering desperately
like moths in the rain,
he stood up,
brushed the ash from his jacket,
straightened his rusty knees,
closed his eyes,

and walked away.

another day  s u r v i v e d.

One Thing Intensely

to love one thing intensely
is to drink water
in the desert. 


 

Steam Engine

there are days, sometimes weeks,
when the attack hits you from every possible angle,
firing at you with the speed and precision
of a boiler room piston.

and if you're not a part of the steam flow
everything pushes against you.

until finally, used and wasted,
you're forced up through the cylinder, 

and out the stack with all the
smoke, the soot, and the embers

with not a bit of form left to you but

vapor
and sky. 

Umbrellas Change, Too

There are two umbrellas in my parents' coat closet
that have been there for 30 years.

And I have never seen them used.

They are tall, with red and white stripes,
and brittle, plastic handles.

They give me a false
sense of stability.

For there has not been a single moment
through the course of my life when I have opened
that closet and those
umbrellas haven't been there. 

My parents are now leaving forever.

And that closet will soon be empty.

And I suppose those umbrellas,
through no will of their own,

will finally see rain.