New moon. September.
First few golds among the green.
—Northland tentative—
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Tentative
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Author Archives: Ron.
A Song I Used To Know I Used To Sing
It stings, this recollected
second fall, the failing
and the things that have followed:
the walls, collapsed, unpinning
and the unpenned heart
its ink expended, lapsing into cold.
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Sting
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Six Word Saturday
I Haven’t Seen Her In Ages
It used to be that I couldn’t go anywhere without running into her, but it feels like we haven’t crossed paths in ages. Maybe I just haven’t been looking. Maybe she changed her looks, though I don’t think that would matter much because she never looks the same anyway. Every time I’ve ever encountered her, she looked like someone else altogether; had new hair or glasses, gained or lost a ton of weight, looked sober for a change or maybe had her face half-hidden by a cocktail shaker.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in a burka or a bikini, though. Maybe I’ve been hanging out in all the wrong spots.
I miss my Janey. I know I’ve seen her a million times lately, I just haven’t been paying attention. I’m going to start looking for her again.
Janey On The Down-Low
Janey believes she’s stalker bait;
skulks and dyes and changes jobs
like nobody’s business. One guy
spots her wherever she goes,
no matter how often she moves;
no matter what new language she
masters or pretends to master;
no matter what name she uses.
He isn’t really stalking her. He just
ends up wherever Janey’s at, wherever
Janey goes, whenever. Fluke.
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Lots more 6WS fun HERE
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Fat Ronald Cheats
All the ads say it’s hot and juicy,
and it’s hot alright, but the juicy’s
really just grease that congeals
pretty quickly back into fat. He’s
reasonably sure he can feel it
coating his cluttered arteries
even before he swallows.
None of this, though,
keeps him from eating there
three or four times a week,
nor does he ever even remotely
consider ordering a salad
or the lo-cal fruit parfait.
His wife tells him he’s turning
into a bacon-wrapped double cheeseburger,
but all he hears is how delicious he is,
how much she wants to gobble him up.
He loves her madly, but she just
doesn’t satisfy him anymore.
He’s always at least a little disappointed
when the best of her home cooking
refuses to dribble down his chin,
promises neither cardiac arrhythmia
nor the ever-expanding waistline
he’s come to expect from his pleasure.
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Flavorful
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Demoted
Thursday Thirteen
13 Things I’m NOT Looking Forward To
1. The recurring Rugsucker dream. (I’m long overdue, and they’re never good; each more horrible than the last.)
2. The inevitable and irreversible appearance of synthetic out-of-season watermelon.
3. That governmental robo-call, the one I dreaded all last year but didn’t get.
4. The first time I slip up and call some grad student “Sonny”.
5. Forgetting to use my fake Australian accent.
6. Page after page after page, still blank in the morning.
7. Some days, mornings; some nights, bed.
8. The sudden realization that my “Under The Boardwalk” earworm has disappeared.
9. News broadcasts that include a body count, or even the phrase “projected losses”.
10. An overabundance of flannel mandates. (I mean, I like flannel, but…)
11. A worldwide shortage of pre-sorted edible orts.
12. Successful re-election.
13. All those fucking chickens, finally come home to roost.
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I always look forward to the other cool listers at the NEW THURSDAY 13
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I Tend To Do That
Procrastination Versus Anticrastination:
I feel like I’ve already made up my mind on this one,
—made it up ages ago, actually—
but I’m putting off making a final decision until,
um, sometime next week. Maybe.
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Penchant
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