an old writer and his words

  • A FOOL’S BUSINESS

    At the end of a long day spenton the business end of poetry, andyes there is a business end but do notconfuse that with money for thathas nothing at all to do with poetry,I stare at the page knowing the wordsare going to be stubborn this day,will refuse to exit the pen, hidingin the darkness…

    Lou Faber

  • DEAR SIR OR MADAM

    Dear politician:I received what seemedlike a stream of emails from youthis week and I would like youto stop sending them, but of courseyour unsubscribe link doesn’t work.I trust you got it from the same peoplethat fail to wire the Close Door buttonson nearly every elevator I have ridden.Please know you are wastingyour time seeking money…

    Lou Faber

  • HISTORY

    When he said he wanted to be a historianeven his parents laughed at him, remindinghim that “there’s no money to be madein history unless you want to be a teacher,and you are so much better than that.”He knew they wanted him to becomea doctor, or failing that, at least a lawyer.Few were surprised when, in…

    Lou Faber

  • JUST STOP

    “The problem,” she said, “the reasonyou cannot sleep through the night,is simple and easily fixed if youonly follow my advice for which,as you know, you are paying dearly.”This was what I had been waitingto hear after so many therapy sessions.I begged her to go on, thinking whatI would do with the money Ihad been spending…

    Lou Faber

  • POOR MAN’S SAUCE

    It was a four burner stovetwo of which still worked.Money was always tight,our parents refusing to understandwhat it cost beyond tuition, room and boardto be a student, forgiven for theyhad never gone to college.We became masters of cheap cooking,two steps beyond ketchup and waterbut the cheapest tomato saucewe could find, and sale herbswell past their…

    Lou Faber

  • AND TONIGHT

    This should be Paris, he thought,dancing alone in the Tuileries, orEngland, looking down on the Thamesperched atop the London Eye.This was how he imagined it, nottrapped in the madding crowd, everyonefrantically multitasking, searchingfor nirvana or a release from boredom,from the quest for monetary meaningthat had trapped them in a maze withno exit or end point,…

    Lou Faber

  • AMUSEMENT

    Life, he said with his ever present smile,is very much like an amusement park.The preacher, priest, rabbi standsat the ticket booth, gladly taking your moneyand telling you to have a good time,but reminding you of the penaltyfor not following the rules he or shehands you, neatly bound and printedin longer or shorter versions dependingon who…

    Lou Faber

  • PREP SCHOOLING

    They told me I didn’t belongnever would. It was just aboutthe only thing on which we agreed.But, I know, “you pays your money”and all of that, and my moneyhad been paid in fullso there I was and would remainuntil I could make an escape.Don’t get me wrong, despitethe Brooks Brothers uniformsit was only a social…

    Lou Faber

  • LOBSTER SHACK

    It squatted on the cornerbacked by an L shaped stripplaza, a grocery store, shoes,pool supplies, a bank, all datedand wholly nondescript.It was a gas station, major brand,four gas pumps, one dieselbut the service bays had been guttedof their large liftsthat oncegave the mechanics accessto the bellies of the metal beastsand now housed two giant tanksand…

    Lou Faber