What the Stank?

Sleep is a welcomed friend.

I need it so.

My mood. My body. My spirit it mends.

Images flood my mind. I toss to and fro.

I wake with my eyes pouring water.

My nose is on fire.

My throat is tight. It feels like hot solder.

I am drowning in the mire.

Breathe, breathe, breathe. It’s stuck.

Don’t panic. Dreaming.

My chest is tight. Was I hit by a truck?

Chico doesn’t understand the meaning.

Outside. Must go outside.

Cool night air is fresh, amazing.

What’s going on? The facts I must apply.

Outside smells fine. Inside is blazing.

I open windows. Set up fans.

Chico seems unaffected.

A foul creature has opened it’s glans.

This situation must be corrected.

With great caution, I open the basement door.

Be gone foul creature.

Torment me no more.

You have been tonight’s main feature.

Armed with air fresheners and scented candles,

I combat your stank.

Tomorrow, I will no doubt be a scandal.

The stank has filled my ever waking moment.

My sinuses. My clothes. My hair smell like you.

Stink! Stank! Stunk!

Or at least in my mind, I perceive they do.

Be gone you! You smelly skunk!

I know God created you for a reason.

Getting trapped under my house, you did not leave me beaten.

The End

Ships

All of our lives, we hear sayings. Some we understand. Other soar over our heads. Their meanings lost in the clouds. I have heard the phrase “two ships passing in the night” many times during my life. I’m sure I will hear it many more. This is the first time in my life I can honestly say that I’ve made this connection within my own mind.

I consider myself a cuddy cabin boat. There are all sorts of possibilities with me. About 6 months ago, I was moved to different waters. Greener pastures if you will. Bright blue waters, sunny skies. Wide open spaces. There are more boats here than the waters I left.

A bright cheery bowrider was teaching me these new waters. Once the ice broke by spring rolling in; we started wondering around the bay. Seeing what we could see.

On many occasions a sleek gray trawler would pass our way. It was obvious that the trawler had been out to sea. More nautical miles under his belt than me.

I gave him little thought. He was very friendly. Nice trawler. Bow (that’s what I call her) started putting this idea in my on board computer that Gray had a thing for me. “Nah, not me.” We would banter back and forth as we bobbed in the water, “it’s you.”

I would blush, “No it’s you.”

So, I started paying attention. Maybe Bow was right. Maybe Gray did. I never could work up enough steam to ask him to go deep sea fishing. Bow kept encouraging me but I just couldn’t.

Then one day this gorgeous runabout showed up. I knew her from my old waters. She thought Gray was a super catch. How could I compete with her aerodynamic design and well kept paint job? Her lines were sleek and she seemed to glide across the water.

I did what I thought was the right thing for me. Gray was hers. There was no way I could maneuver through the water like she could. The sun didn’t reflect from me like it did her. Glory go with her. Though on one occasion I did give Gray a fishing net. It was too big for me. Might as well give it to someone that can use it.

Now we are two ships that pass in the night. Things have changed. We speak on occasion.

Was it runabout that changed things? Was it the heat of summer? Was this God telling me Gray is not the trawler for me? I may never know.

Maybe Bow was right, I should have shuck off my barnacles and asked him to go fishing. Maybe Bow was wrong and it really was her?

Getting it wrong

Yesterday, as I’m leaving work; I can hear loud incoherent words. At this point, I’m not sure where they are coming from. As I get closer to my car; a man comes into view. He is walking down the sidewalk.

He is mumbling as loudly as he can. Then he screams “SUGAR”; and it’s back to his loud mumbling. “SUGAR!”

As I get closer to my car, he turns and is walking toward me. “SUGAR”, followed by loud mumbling.

I don’t care to tell you, I’m a little concerned. You never know about people. Unpredictable is the new normal. At this point, I’m working just as fast as I can to get in my car.

“SUGAR,” followed by loud mumbling.

I get in the car as he walks past me. When I start the engine, I notice immediately that I’ve left the radio on. Watermelon Sugar is playing. When Harry sings the word sugar, this dude is screaming it. “SUGAR!” And the incoherent mumbling is the rest of the lyrics.

Harry sings sugar. Dude pulls my attention to him as he screams, “SUGAR!” He is walking up a flight of stairs.

I get to hear “sugar” one more time as I pull out onto the street. “SUGAR!”

Watermelon Sugar is song by Harry Styles.

Desperation

Seething desperation

Endless pain

Empty

Like my heart

Hollow

Like my soul

A stone falling

Into a bottomless well

Screams never heard

Crying never comforted

Love never received

Free falling through life

Meaningless

Pointless

Empty

Taken from ‘The Reconstruction of Me’. A collection of poems I started in the early 2,000’s. Not a published book.

Flying Objects

I have taken on a odd job. Or in today’s terms; a side hustle. It started with cleaning windows for a friend of mine. Now, I’m painting his deck.

This deck is massive. It’s at least 60 feet long and at its highest point maybe 12 feet high.

Even though it’s tiring work; place the ladder, paint maybe a foot and climb down the ladder over and over. There is zero stress. There’s no pressure to get the job finished. I get to see beautiful scenery. Leaves turning for fall. Water sparkling on the pond. The day is filled with the mooing of cows, the tinkling of goat bells, and dogs barking in the distance. Every now and then I hear a sound that is straight out of a science fiction movie. It’s the scream, clatter, the noise of geese.

Up the ladder; down the ladder.

My friend’s son has two little dogs; they might be Shih Tzu’s but I’m not sure. Their greatest joy is to bark at me when I’m there. I’ve made friends with the 2 big dogs. One day Bo (a Bouvier) helped me eat my viennie and crackers for lunch. But not these little ones. They want to eat me.

Up the ladder; down the ladder.

Today, the wind is blowing up a storm. You can feel it in the air. But Kentucky weather is so unpredictable, it might rain – it might not.

Up the ladder; down the ladder.

I haven’t gotten up close and personal with the critters that live here. I’ve only watched them from afar. Goats, cows, ducks, chickens, pigs, and the geese are wild. There are fish in the pond. Birds sing all day long.

Up the ladder; down the ladder.

The goats are grazing around the opposite side of the house from the driveway. They aren’t normally over there. I usually see them as I arrive. Munching on grass as they stare me down. This new person invading their space. I know those goats are thinking, “come on get out of the car. Let’s play.” Nope. Not here.

The calm of my scene is interrupted by a herd of about 10 goats and 3 heifers rushing down the side of the hill toward the pond. This band of critters picked up a few chickens once it settled to drink. Now mind you, I’m standing on a ladder about 8 feet or so up in the air with a paint brush in one hand and paint can in the other. You can imagine my sudden panic at the thought of this band of critters racing past and thru my very precarious position.

I envisioned the ladder getting knocked from under me. Me, paint can, brush, and ladder all going in opposite directions. Fat girl would not fare well in this scenario. Talk about flying objects; maybe even broken ones.

But as I watched these animals get their bellies full of water and nibble on some grass, it dawned on me; there is an electric fence between them and me. Shew! Thank you God!

They drank their fill and meandered back up the hill from which they came; leaving me as safe as I could be perched on my ladder.

The end.

Parking Lot

Look at me.

What do you see?

There were people here.

Now no one is near.

There was the sounds of laughter.

Nothing resonates after.

The sounds of work filled these walls.

Now just echoes fall.

Wait, what happened to the juice?

Am I not of any use?

Darkness is all around.

Out of that darkness are natures sounds.

Stop! This is new.

Should this make me blue?

Should I be scared?

Was I not productive and fair?

Big yeller has been here a couple days.

Maybe I should be fazed.

What does the future hold for me?

I’ll just have to wait and see.

Rumors fly –

from passerby;

A parking lot!

I will just be a lonely gray dot.

No more walls. No more ceiling.

No more laughter. No more feeling.

Just a gray dot.

An empty parking lot.

Scaring Yourself

I love darkness. It’s calm, peaceful and relaxing. I enjoy it even more after I got my dog. When things go bump in the night; if they are scary things, he’s on it. Barking like the world is coming to an end. If it’s nothing, he never moves. He’s been an added level of comfort. Even though he’s no bigger than a minute.

I recently had some plumbing work done. Odd sounds and smells make me a little nervous until the new wears off. Last night, I’m laying in the bed. Chico is stretched out beside me, happily sleeping. The smell of sewage fills my nose.

Oh no! My first thought is the new plumbing has come loose. Do I really want to get up and investigate this mess? I sniff and sniff.

After a minute the smell seems to dissipate. With a start, Chico shoots up and starts sniffing around his butt. Then it dawned on me, he’s farted. Not only did he create a horrible stench but he scared himself awake in the process.

Fitting In: Stop Trying

You’re not funny.

That’s me, big dummy.

Stop trying!

You’re not a child.

What were you thinking? Are you out of your mind?

Stop trying!

Act your age.

That was a disaster. Learn how to gauge.

Stop trying!

That was so juvenile.

They don’t get your style.

Stop trying!

You’re sense of humor is just bizarre.

Who do you think you are?

Stop trying!

I’m always afraid I will offend.

Then I have to mend.

Stop trying!

Feeling bad for hours or days.

Life is a maze.

Stop trying!

No matter where I land.

I sink into quick sand.

Stop trying!

I’ll never fit in.

The pieces, I cannot blend.

Stop trying!

The situation is always wrong.

Inappropriate – gone.

Stop trying!

Someday I will learn to keep my mouth shut.

But.

Stop trying!

Someday I will learn to stop trying.

Dying.

Stop trying!

Who cares how you feel?

For real.

Stop trying!