Perceptions, Delusions

Rain fell soft and silky.  How could she have lost touch with the man she almost married?

It hadn’t been Melvyn’s department store for forty years.  Fringed in yellow pollen, puddles became crime scene outlines.  Superstition prevailed.  They were to be avoided at all costs.

Deny perception or declare delusion?  She had no idea where this conversation was going.

Patchwork farms gave way to suburbia.  Too bad families, friends only got together at funerals.

Had he suffered in the last days?  Too late and inappropriate to ask.

Always affable.  Willing to share personal stories or anecdotes–before getting down to business.

It would be crass to call Harold a hero.  Hero was such an overused word.  Clients felt they were in good hands.  Harold was a businessman first–then a friend.

Harold’s health battles were kept secret.  No one, except a few close friends, knew till the very last day.  Harold’s death came as a complete shock.

The faithful milled about, their gaunt, long faces engaged in quiet conversations.

When it’s my time–I’d like to go that way.  He looked so nice and peaceful lying there.   

 

 

 

Selling–Nobody’s Buying

Broken pretzels

The absolute worst

What was better

last or first?

Tried hard as I could

Hung on every word

Dark thoughts

Drifted overhead

Lead–or be led

Towns passed by

In the blink of an eye

Roadside crosses

Lives cut short

Tar-bubbled streets

In summer heat

Nothing there–I

Could ever repeat

FORGOTTEN GARDEN

His paunchy
Bald presence
A perfect fit
Among cronies
At the cigar bar
Her hourglass figure
Shifted with time

They cruised
Past, depictions
Of debutante balls
Country club heroes
Lined memory walls
Reminded heirs apparent
Of modern-day tragedy

Their frozen faces
Lied about love
And how much
They missed
Each other

Words drifted
Like autumn leaves
In frosty wind
While truth, was
Left for dead

Promises withered
Commitment rotted
After the garden
Was, long forgotten