Archive for the ‘Whimsical’ Category


I carved a path where once was none

let looming azure envelop me

refuge sought and taken there

and yearning peace,

I prayed ‘neath sunless mist

flew prickly o’er the trail

snaked ’round and down

where memories dead once buried me.


She drew me
in her picture
in colors would not run.
I watched her eyes
atop her canvas and
though ’twas not for me to see
what she drew there,
’twas through her eyes
I knew the colors.
      ~ ~ ~

Angler Motel


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?

` ` `

A Short Story

Do you smoke? she asked.
What then?
Cigars. Premium cigars.
That might be a deal-breaker, she said.
What deal?
Aren’t you looking for a relationship?
Not deliberately, he replied.
You’re not looking for love? she asked.
Is everybody?
Everybody I know, she said.
Everybody you know is without it? He asked.
Do you like me?
I don’t have much to go on. Why did you ask if I smoked weed?
We were talking about smoking, she said. Would it be a deal-breaker if I like weed?
Are we trying to make a deal? he asked.
What do you think? she asked.
Not any more.

                                   ~ ~ ~

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