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GRANDCHILD
You more easily rememberthe birth of a grandchildthan his or her parent whether from a memorysharpened by ageor regular sleep or by a visionmore acute for knowingwhat to look for, or simply a clingingtightly to any symbolof youth denied you. It may be as wellthat grandchildren seeyou differently than parents a hope for a long…
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ANYWHERE BUT
I was twelve at the time, would havechosen to be anywhere but there.I hated visiting her at home, but thistook my disgust to a whole new level.We were never close, never would be,she so old, so old world, so unlikeanyone I had known, so like the womensitting outside the old hotels on South Beachwaiting for…
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TICK TICK TICK
My grandson has a smile that is as old as time itself, as young as the mind of a four-year-old and in this moment, beaming, I am left to guess which it is, for he won’t say, and so I smile with him and time has no meaning, no beginning, no end.
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SAY WHAT?
The introductions were relaxed but complete as befits three people in a small room, she the linchpin knowing each of the others, utter strangers to each other, save in her stories. The men stared at each other gently ensuring the other saw only a smile for the better part of two minutes, basking in the…
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55+ FLORIDA
She said, “you so don’t fit in there, everyone’s going on eighty except those can only see it in their rear view mirrors.” “Perhaps,” he said, “but I’m fairly sure I’m on the very young side of things, and it’s nice being the kid in the crowd once again. And anyway, it’s a comforting thought…
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FAIREST OF THEM ALL
Once I was six foot four with long blond hair that would have made Fabio jealous, but sadly I woke up. Now in the mirror I am a balding five foot six, middle aged man who wants only to return to the me of my dreams.
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AMONG ELDERS
I sit outside, on the mesa having watched the mauve, fuchsia and coral sky finally concede to night. The two orange orbs sit twenty yards away, staring back and in this moment coyote and I have known each other for moments, and for generations, and we are content. Coyote tells me he was once an…
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SLIPPING AWAY
Each day I am certain something more slips away, forgotten, no longer able to be recalled, lost in the vast abyss of yesterdays. I would like to think this happens because something new, something better has taken its place, and I had no choice but to displace it. That is the convenient story I tell…
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an old writer and his words 