#236 Is Wrapped Up in the Heather

I’m covered in Heather

I’m at a loss to explain why

It happened one Christmas Day

And it hasn’t gone away

I’d say I was unhappy about it

But I’d be lying to you

This Heather is beautiful and bold

Much a joy through and through

I’ll start with the smell

Light and pleasant inspiring trust

It arouses happiness

With more than a hint of lust

A joy to the eye

I could look at it all day

Often Heather looks back

As if to say

“Hello, my name is Heather”

So happy with this Heather

I let it grow all over me

Till I was wrapped up in it

And could scarcely see

I went to the barber

And they looked at me quite strange

Advising me to see an arborist

Who keeps his home on the range

The arborist saw me right away

And looked me up and down

Surprise in his eyes, he did say,

“What an exquisite specimen of Ericaceae

You are so lucky to have this Heather attached to you

I’ll see what I can do.”

He didn’t cut

He thought that would be too much

With skilled hands he arranged

And tied, until he was quite pleased

Standing back

He gave it a final tease

I looked in the mirror

And was happy as can be

This particular Heather

Was completely suited to me!

I loved this Heather

I’ll not make it a secret

I paraded around with pride

Very determined to keep it

Soon I had admirers

And some asked to join us

A small duckling and frog

Had stars in their eyes

When they beheld us

I thought they were adorable

And helped them on up

They nestled on my shoulders

Deep in the Heather

Which was happy to have them

Cooing and curling around them

Not long after

I small turtle happened by

It was precious and green

The cutest chubby turtle I’d ever seen

It joined our group

And has stayed to this day

No matter what happens

We know it will be okay

Our little family is happy

The duckling, frog and turtle

Still cuddled in the Heather

Grown snug around me

All a part of me

We go through life together

Come what may

Full of love and cuddled forever

#235 Thirst of the Prairie Dog

The truck

Was stuck

Deep in the muck

But that cowboy

Just didn’t give a fuck

He was kicked back

In the bed

Strumming his guitar

And singing

Songs that a prairie dog

Could howl to

We stand up

One at a time

Amused by his singing

Horrified by his rhymes

And wondering

How much beer

He has with him

Our prairie dog clan

Numbered two and twenty

Have acquired a taste for the brew

Thanks to a careless delivery driver or two

They leave their trucks idling

As they talk on their phone

We sneak up and open the door

And take what we can carry

Patiently we wait

Popping up to check on things

One by one

Until sure enough

The cowboy passed out

Moving as one group

We move in to his truck

Stepping lightly in the muck

To steal all the beer

That we can carry

#234 Droid for Sale

I am increasingly annoyed

With my droid

He's loud and he beeps

He smells bad while he sleeps

He can't do two things at a time

When he tries he freezes

And emits a high pitched whine

He leaves tracks and debris

All over the house

He is worse than a mouse

I threw a wrench at him

In frustration the other day

He just turned his cold dead eyes to me

Gave me the droid finger

And rumbled away

I've had it

He's for sale

I've hung a sign on him

And put him in the front yard

Chained to a rail

At only 500 Imperial Credits

He's actually quite a steal

The salesman in me urges

That is hardly the cost of a fancy meal

But I have misgivings deep down inside

Because although he's technically

As good as a new one from the droid store

He's a pain in the ass

And if I had to answer honestly when asked

I'd have to admit:

This is NOT

The droid you are looking for

#233 BOOM

I’m a high-wire act

In a low brow town

They all want me to fall

But all I can do is drown

The levy it broke

Water came rushing in

Making a lake of this town

With only the church steeple marking our sin

It was our fault

My little group and I

We were playing with fire

I can’t even remember why

A bonfire pyre

As tall as city hall

Soaked in kerosene

Lit off and the fire was like a wall

Heat blistered our skin

All my hair burned off

We ran for our lives

And that’s when the propane lit off

Storage tanks not 50 yards away

Blame the liquor or our stupidity

It’s the same result either way

The explosion leveled half the city

Knocked out by the concussion

I came to breathing water

I sat up sputtering

Deaf and half drowned as it were

Blood running from my ears and nose

I stared incredulously at the water all around

I had been one of the lucky ones

I’d been taken out on the high ground

The hill in the park

Became my island in the storm

A few others struggled in

We huddled to keep warm

The bonfire long extinguished

The propane farm a deep black bole

The levy ripped open just beyond

Displaying a 100 yard hole

I looked around

Nothing making a sound

Not the rushing water

Not the animals

Nor the people and their screams

I hung my head and wept

At the terrible spectacle of the scene

I waded out and started swimming

Looking to help and make good

Not knowing if I could

Certain though, that I should

#232 Inkstained

Ink is permanent

Like written in stone

Meaningful as a kiss

Real as blood and bone

Ink is transparent

Seeing through your lies

Brought forth with lemon juice

Tears running after getting it in your eyes

Ink is a blot

Dripped from a fountain pen

Folded in half it’s a Rorschach

To drive you mad now and again

Ink is in you

A dragon koi upon your back

Inserted just below the skin

A mindblowingly colorful attack

Ink is dark

By it’s very nature

Marking what it touches

Holding it in rapture

Ink fades

Old words upon a page

Harder to read with age

No matter how you rage

Ink runs

Sometimes it's hard to write

Even harder to read

When the page has become a smear

And you struggle to go on

Through the rain of your tears

#231 The Wheel of Death

I had lemon chicken for lunch today

With rice and peas

A small bag of chips for snack

And an apple

To keep the doctor away

But I forgot it at home

So I have to take a chance

And shell out some dollar bills

To spin the wheel of death

I feed my dollars into the machine

One wouldn’t go

So I smooth it out and try again

On the third try it takes it

I push the button

The machine spins slowly

With a buzzing noise

And a click

Whenever the food lines up with the door

I find a frozen burrito

How bad could it be?

Beans, meat paste, and a tortilla

I might even have some cheese upstairs

I open the door

And select my doom

I hold it close

And take it to my room

Heated up so nicely

It went down pretty good

With a side of cheese

And a glass of water

The wheel of death will have it’s due

And later in the night

I had to spend a lot of quality time

Sitting in the bathroom

Staring at the same graffiti

"Your mom has a penis!"

About six times over

All for a moment of forgetfulness

And a likely looking frozen burrito

#230 Is the Plane Game

The sun is setting

The towering clouds in the west

Are on fire from within

Glowing orangely

Three airplanes

High above those clouds

Make their way in three different directions

Their contrails streaming behind them

Like white fire in the setting sunlight

And just like most other times I see such things

I think of her

And the little game she taught me

Those long years ago

She led me outside

Behind her house

To the train tracks

Brown and rusty on the sides

Weeds growing up through the white gravel

The black tarred wooden ties

Almost hidden in some places

We sat down on the seldom used rails

And had a cigarette

Discussing things that seemed deep at the time

Looking up

She noticed an airplane going by

A jetliner

So high the body was just a dot

With a white string of a contrail in it's wake

Making it’s slow way across our sky that day

She asked me where I thought it was going

And I thought literally

Trying to figure out what direction it was going

But she stopped me

Not like that

She said

Where do you wish it was going

Wish that you were on it

And why

I had to think

And I don’t remember what I said

Then she said where she’d wish it was going

How she’d wish she were on it

And why

But I don’t remember what she said either

The important thing is

That I still look up

I still see the airplanes going by

And I play the little game in my head

Thinking of her

The taste of our cheap cigarettes

How hard the steel rail was on my butt

And I tell myself where I wish the plane was going

And wish I was on it

And why