Thank You Notes

Somewhere, I learned that success was judged by the number of people that come to your funeral.

A local police motorcade seals status.

Guestbooks are filled with thoughts and prayers made from the masses with well polished signatures.

Some even with extraneous letters of accolade or titles like Dr. or “ The Honorable” whomever.

Maybe notes of who brought what to eat, for the poor grieving family, and as a reminder where to send thank you notes and to return the Tupperware.

I, however have




Most anyone for that occasion in my life.

I won’t have to worry about that.

There will be no accolades.

No Tupperware to be returned.

This is the only thank you note.



Giving Thanks



They’re coming faster.

I can no longer keep up.

Instead, I suck down mock tails in the places where only the tourists and the down trodden go.

The Orphans.

I look across the water

At an island I’ll never live on

And think of those I lost, alienated,

ran away, or buried in my emotional basement.

I know they are there.

So I chase gnats away from my ginger beer and repeat every holiday, and all birthdays I can remember…


Consolation Prizes

The warmth of the spring sun on the face allow veins to show through eyelids.

A football helmet allows flight from

The safety of a Sears and Roebuck jungle gym.

A paratroopers swing

grass-ward for war and popsicles.

A tickle of grass on the neck

and watching clouds

prompts wonder.

Was it June bug or July fly?

A fleeting thought of where

Dad was that moment,

when he would be home,

and had he been gone

long enough to warrant

a really cool present on his return?

Something cool.

Not some stupid T-shirt

from some fake golf tournament designed as a cover for high stakes poker, and call girls serving…


The warmth of the spring sun on the face allow veins to show through eyelids.

Bartender, get me another.



I must have missed what you said,

But it is spilling from my hands.

Pulsing from my veins,

Spreading like fire – seeking air.

Pulling me in

I’m more alive.

I give you my sins.

I’ve chosen you, you’ve chosen me.

We are chosen.

But keep that secret with the rest.

If I save us, we fall down

If I save you, I fall.

You would let me fall.

There won’t be any Salvation.

I leave words now.

You never listen.

Hold me under.

Throw me from a cliff.

My thunder trails off

To a scream.



There was a Hurricane around the corner.

Popular especially at sundown.


In a Hemingway ambiance,

Lying kept him alive.

Telling the truth kept him fed.

The right mix kept drunk.

He might even get lucky.


There was a Hurricane around the corner.

Storms inside,


In the distance.


Tick Toc

A man.

All that “potential”.

Withers in the tempest of it all.