Local Customs

People on winding roads

with names nobody knew

didn’t want to be found

Their thoughts passed by

like gaudy billboards

so unlike, wonders

of the natural world

Noises–pyrotechnics or nature?

Big-city cynicism wasted

Fell curbside with other detritus

Never cared to get too close

Lived lives of their own choosing

Feared for the sanctity

of precious oceans and forests

Adapted when necessary

Then forgot everything

“Was there–anything to declare?”

Nothing–other than what they were

Better Things To Talk About?

A miscue, gaffe

Regurgitated

Everywhere

From highest potentate

To lowest Joe Schmoe

Till everyone’s

Cup runneth over

With latest hackneyed

Cliche word of the day

What it meant?

What was implied?

Was it foreign?

Secret code?

Something? Nothing?

Amusing?  Serious?

More questions than

An average two-year old

Could ask in a day

I’m not inclined

To join in the fray

A word that you’ll

Not, hear here

Stone and Silk (Marvin & Janie)

My tarnished love story, written three years ago.  Because I believe none of us are perfect, and therefore, neither are our relationships.

————————————————————————————————–

I was a dumb cluck from cornfield country.  She was a stone-cold beauty from the East Coast.  Now, there’s a pair for you.

Why he liked her so much was hard to figure.  She was mean–hard to get along with; demanded Marvin’s full attention, morning, noon, and night.  Marvin brought Janie flowers, pretty things, but, it never seemed to matter.  At work, Marv was always borrowing money; because he never had any.  Maybe he thought that was the way relationships were supposed to be?

God forbid Marvin ever looked at another woman–even, for  a casual glance.  When he did, Janie pummeled his arms and shoulders with flailing fists.  He had to have a high tolerance level.  Was Janie that insecure–jealous of other women?  There’s supposed to be someone for everyone.  What had Marvin done to deserve her?

When Marvin worked late, Janie was a nervous wreck until his car pulled into the driveway.  He always called home before leaving work.  They fought like cats and dogs, but when Janie was sick, Marv was always there by her side.  Nobody knew what went on behind closed doors.  Their private lives were kept private.

The Revelation:  Janie had been a former Vegas “showgirl”–if you could call it that.  “The Swan” was a seedy, obsequious dive bar–with obligatory flashing lights, plenty of cigarette smoke and loud music–hidden in the bowels of Las Vegas.  It was just close enough to the strip, to siphon off drifters from the mainstream and stay in business.  Christened, “The Swan,” because the managing partner’s name was Schwann, not because it had anything to do with Swan Lake–or anything cultural.

The Miracle:  Was, that they ever got together in the first place.  Janie danced at The Swan, because that was all she had.  The shame, less important than necessities of life, she desperately needed.  She lived a distorted, Machiavellian, nightmare of what life should be.

Through thick-bottomed drink glasses, Janie was every guy’s ideal woman–worthy of stuffed, sweaty, dollar bills, donated by countless, faceless, nameless men, ascending/descending from emotional highs and lows–in various stages of self-control.

Marvin nodded off into semi-consciousness that night, until his head hit the table.  Then, he became just another bottom-feeder, milked dry, tossed out and left for dead.  “Nighty night–sleep tight,” The bouncer mocked.

The next thing Marv remembered was waking up in the back alley.  “I know I heard “Jingle Bells’ playing somewhere,”  Marv said.  “Or, more likely, it was my throbbing head.”  That’s when Janie walked out the back door.  Marvin’s clothes were damp, dirty, and disgusting.  He was pitiful in a sad, floppy-eared puppy dog sort of way.

She took pity on me–bought me a cup of coffee at the diner across the street.  She told me right up front, it wasn’t going any further.  I asked the same question, she heard every night in the bar.  How’d a pretty girl like you, end up in a place like this?  She turned the question right around.  How had I ended up thrown out of a Vegas bar in an alley?

I answered, It was because I was a hopeless screw-up.  It was a moment of brutal truth–the first time I’d been honest with myself, or any one else, in my life.  The funniest part–we toasted, first to mutual failures, then to hopeless screw-ups.  I didn’t have a dime to my name, but I sure felt better.

We had a lot in common, as it turned out.  She was running away from abusive home life with an alcoholic father.  I’d been kicked out of the house, by my father, at nineteen to sink or swim.  At that moment, I knew I loved Janie.  If given the chance, some day I’d ask her to marry me.

From what Marvin told me, their courtship was a bit like a Hollywood movie script.  The bar’s owner didn’t want Janie to quit; had her followed–made life miserable.  I suspected there was more to that part of the story and he wished to keep it secret.  Love always found a way, so they met secretly at different locations; like underworld spies, or refugees from a war-torn world.

Marvin sat at a table near the entrance of one pre-determined location.  Janie came in a few moments later; sat at an adjoining table.  “You know–I once sprained my elbow,” Was Marv’s opening line.  It was finest cloak-and-dagger, old-time movie dialogue.  “Daffodils bloom in the springtime,”  Janie answered.  To which Marvin asked, “Did you know bats slept upside down?”  Janie opened her purse, took out a white handkerchief.  They walked out together, laughing at their private jokes–played out to perfection.

Their Escape:  Janie and Marvin’s escape from “Sin City” was, no less intriguing.  Highlighted by a two-day exile in an abandoned basement; hiding from some unsavory characters.  It ended with a four-day bus ride to middle Tennessee.  They didn’t know a soul there.  Marvin hoped to land a job at a nearby auto assembly plant.  Janie was hired to wait tables at a local mom and pop eatery.

Marvin and I started work the same day, working swing shifts as janitors, for a starting wage of 2.35 per hour–extra for nights and weekends.  It was good money for a couple of young guys with no experience.  What I learned about Marv and Janie, came from working together at Chrysler for 38 years.  There were occasional encounters with Janie at the supermarket.  They stayed pretty much close to home.

Both of them are gone now.  I feel their presence every day–especially when I see young couples in love, laughing at private little jokes.  Soul mates, lovers–whatever you choose to call them; neither, could have survived without the other.

My first impressions were very wrong.  Janie went first–passed away in Marvin’s arms.  Marv passed away nine years later.  I was there to bid my friend goodbye.  When death knocked at the door–theirs was the only way to go; surrounded by those that loved them most.

 

 

 

What You Needed To Know (Stream of Consciousness)

Curtain rose, then fell

Magazine covers

Wrinkled, torn

Inside passages

“I’m Joe’s Liver”

“Why can’t Johnny read?”

Asked, then answered

For those that believed

Cautioned, stern warnings

Kudzu clan was on the loose

Worst earthquakes

Were yet to come

Best to plan ahead

Dream queens, dream screams

Worst mistakes, “they” ever made

Why we dreamed–what dreams meant

Baby bumps, career bump-ups

Deflated balloons departed

Decorated trees in festive mylar

Get well, good luck!

Don’t give up–too soon!

Uncanny caring

Unconscious staring

Big sales, slips and flops

Ubiquitous, unorthodox shops

Favorable phases of the moon

Back to basics, think smaller

How to look taller

Luck, lack of luck?

Hidden gold mines

Could work this time?

You didn’t know

How lucky you were

 

 

 

Grass Was Always Greener

Dusty Springfield, half-whispered “You’ve Got the Look Of Love” from the bat-winged, ’64 Chevy Biscayne’s dashboard speaker; after a day in the hayfields.  If only she were whispering to me–or so, I thought at the time.

If only all girls were like California girls.  Everyone in far-off places seemed to be better off, have more fun–the grass was always greener.  Pity the fools, desperate for good news that never came.

Past lives left behind in rear-view mirrors; chrome chariots pointed, anywhere but here.  “Here” transmogrified into a catch-all phrase–meaning whatever predicament one happened to be in at that given moment.

Anywhere but here, was the new mantra.  How could everybody be somewhere else, when some, somebodies had to stay behind, to make-up for those that went somewhere else?

If there is a point to all this–it is to make the best of where you are; right now, at this moment.  Because, take my word for it, the grass is not always greener.

 

For of those to whom much is given, much is required.  JFK’s observation in 1961, taken from Luke 12:48 KJV.