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.

 

 

Death of the All Night Diner

Equal opportunity offenders walked on eggshells.  Looked for opportunities to please themselves.   Hid from overly sensitive souls.

How did they find room for all that hate in their hearts?

Save the planet.  Save the planet.  Who were we saving it for?  A generation that didn’t appreciate what they already had?  Look what happened to newspapers printed on real paper.

A mother shushed her baby daughter with a bite of pancake.

At another table, a family clad in sports paraphernalia, planned the day’s events.

Across the room, an older gentleman with silver-rimmed glasses, sat alone.  His gray hair and round face, lost in an ocean of senior citizens.

“Two eggs over easy, whole wheat toast, a side order of grits, and black coffee,” Arthur  ordered from the pleasant, middle-aged waitress.

Waves of loneliness bubbled up from within.  Arthur’s calloused hands rested, firmly clasped on the table top.  Nothing was ever the same after the death of the all night diner.