Archive for the ‘Relationships’ Category

Groping

Whisky river
thoughts cascade
plunge against the rocks
splash misty vapors
feed a starlit fog
all meander, struggle wayward
groping for their way back home
              ~ ~ ~

Respite

 
Pause
to ponder
day diminished
‘neath majestic oak
winter bare thine leaf
where goes no shade,
dreary
dank
damp
here I cooled
mine restless heart
when warm and
overflowing
bursting
yet it yearns
 
~ ~ ~

The Angler Motel

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I don’t know why I can’t erase my mind’s picture of the place. It comes less often than before, but when it does, it is more vivid, more deeply ingrained and yields to no neglect.  I knew I had to go again.

I came upon it first; it was the early sixties, its faded neon lights flashing Angler Motel at the top of the hill where it lay beneath a grey-capped, peach-sherbet sky.

In the parking lot, pot-holed and graveled, I sat solitary in my car trying to decide whether I understood her invitation or if I was foolishly entertaining my inclination to fantasize.

I followed her from the diner, her subtle invitation I inferred.  I drove fewer than ten miles, lost her briefly when she topped the hill, and then almost driving past the place myself, I saw her tear-drop tail lights go dim.

I followed, no less assured fate drew me there.  Now I waited while she attended matters at the front desk. 

I didn’t know her.  Or maybe I did.  And there was something about this place; solitary atop the hill where lovers’ dreams born here, blow away, sucked up in the wake of speeding tractor-trailers and weary travelers rushing past, pressing on, opting for a better place.

I was older now.  Wiser too.  Yet here I was again, transplanted amidst neon vacancies and croaking frogs, immersed in the wistfulness of Elusive Butterfly, whispers from the AM dial.  Waiting.  Wondering . . . when would she be here too?

` ` `

Faithful

Smoke cloud mixers, Bud and whisky

guitar men coaxing dirt road tunes

while cocktail bribes and leering eyes

and two-step guys test her favor.

But it ain’t here I’ll be steppin’ cause

what’s in these pants don’t give a damn

so I’ll be heading home to do my dancing

to those bluesy moonlight rhythms of you.

              ~ ~ ~

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