an old writer and his words

  • PEKING

    Chi-Chi was a cute pekein a very “runt of the litter”sort of way, cuddly buthardly the show dogher breeders had intended.I asked why she was calledChi-Chi and my father searchedand showed me her AKCpapers, with the full namethat would’ve made thoseof Spanish royaltypause to consider the brevityof their seemingly endless names.She was a simple joy,…

    Lou Faber

  • AT THE CAFE

    We sit acrossfrom each otherseparated bythe small tablethat teeters,her cappuccinolicking at the rim.My toes danceagainst hersand she looks upquizzically.I smile and reachfor her handtouching her fingersfeeling the fine silverof the rings on each.She pulls her handback and looksinto the richbrown sheen.I stare out the windowat the odd carlookingfor a spacein the overfull lot,then pullingback ontothe…

    Lou Faber

  • BALLET OF THE GODS

    Once they pierced your heelsto hobble you, bound upfeet and ankles to lashyou to the earth, there weren’tangels then, no wings, just the painof toes crushed inward,the silent agony of motion,a cruel joke played by godsstarved for entertainment.But Terpsichore, hearingErato’s song, set them freebrought them to a pointe,allowed them to take winglessflight, and toes became…

    Lou Faber