an old writer and his words

  • BONE CHINA

    Mother loved her bone china.She went out of the way to insurethat her first husband bought a completeset for her, service for twelvenever mind she never had a tablethat could seat more than eightand then only then if you crowdedmismatched chairs together.She gave it to me after her secondmarriage finally dissolved, not onlybecause I was…

    Lou Faber

  • FORESHADOWING

    In my dream we are sittingin a small Italian restaurant.Just where it is located isnot at all clear, but it doesnot matter in the least.I am peering at you overthe menu, you are simplyreading yours decidingon what you will order.We have been here beforeand I know we will beholding hands acrossthe table once we order.I…

    Lou Faber

  • ALMOST, NOT QUITE

    The rains finally came the other day,not the tropical storms that this seasonpromises, those will come laterwe are assured by the weathermenwho sometimes struggle to describewhat is happening outside their windows.It was the sort of rain we had almostforgotten during our tropical droughtwhich, yes, does seem like a contradictionin terms until you look at the…

    Lou Faber

  • LAUGHTER

    Each night the gallinules begintheir laughter, passing it from oneto another until you are no longer certainjust how many of them there are, butyou want to know just what comedythey are watching and put it on your list.But they are interrupted by the shadowsand the cry of the night Heronsdeparting for another night of huntingannouncing…

    Lou Faber

  • OR

    I can safely say I don’t miss the dayswhen they wheeled you into the operating room,smiling you assumed behind the masks,as you shift from gurney to table, your open gownflapping about like some wind driven flag.You would lie there staring up at the massive lightsthankfully were turned on, blinding you, watchedas they placed the mask…

    Lou Faber

  • A QUIET CORNER

    He would see the older man most morningsat the small table in the coffee shopoverlooking the street, hunchedover his New York Times, oftenpen in hand on the crossword.The baristas all knew him, if not by name,saved the table for him be various meansuntil he arrived, when they wouldprepare his carrot muffin and cappuccino.He strained to…

    Lou Faber

  • SISTER

    I can picture her sittingin her small apartmentholding a cup of tea.This is Parma, or perhaps,Milan, two of the threecities I visited in Italy.Her hair is long, grayand white, her smile pained.She does not know I existbut we share so much,a father we never metfirst and foremost.We will never meet,for she, too, may be dead…

    Lou Faber

  • ANTIQUEING

    Mother was an inveterate attendeeat flea markets and Goodwill storesand I would accompany her.She had a knack for antiques, wouldrummage for stereopticon slides,player piano rolls and anything elseshe thought belonged in the family roomshe had taken back to the late 19th century.She scouted the stalls, the darkcorners where Goodwill put thingsthey didn’t think would sell,…

    Lou Faber

  • THINGS I SHOULD HAVE TOLD MY SONS

    1.You can lead a horse to waterbut if he is agoraphobicyou will be walking home 2.You can runbut doing so on icewill lead to useless bruisingand broken bones 3.a bird in the handwill not be terribly happyand could shitall over your new shoes 4.All good things comeand most go,but bad things lingerif you allow it…

    Lou Faber

  • A SIMPLE PROCEDURE

    The needle slips into the armjust above the wrist, it isa bringer of pain, a bringerof relief from pain, it is coldunder the now tepid blanket.The nurse, ever cheerful, saysit is time now, raises the bed railand the anesthetist presses gentlyon the plunger of the hypodermicand the drugs ooze slowly intothe patiently waiting vein.As they…

    Lou Faber