To Dr. Plonk: It's Been Days Between the Needing

It's been days between the Needing
your needing...me.
I guess that's just the way of us, the way of things, the cluck of chicks, the movement ticks
and I grow older
and less able to keep up with you
Any change in behavior...surprises me. Delights me.
I'm glad you have made some friends.
I feel that you are growing old, and that shell doesn't do what it used to do.
I feel the same sometimes.
It's one of those items we take with us into adulthood, forgetting.
Forgetting each other are around, at any moment ...would jump to comfort!

It's days between the needing
your leading me away, back again, ebb and flow, coo of dove during ankle deep snow.
Mysterious.
I wish that out there
Somewhere near you...there's a person to comfort.
You rarely speak the demons, their crimes, their ways, your lusts for money and power.
What about this...hour? Did you know I was forgetting you?
Forgetting each other is needing, at any moment, pleading for love.

The Country Place 1990

“You should take her there,” someone said
“..with white tablecloths, classic…”
How could something in the mall be classy, I thought
But off we went, a Mother’s Day trip across Midtown Atlanta
Excepted because of reservations,
there were appropriate brunch accommodations…
Mimosas, Bloody Marys (her favorite) and soft rolled breads.
Waiters in khaki pants, bright white shirts
And those irritating colorful paisley ties that were in back then.
In the large dining room:
Plenty of guys with their moms
Plenty of libations
Water with lemon on every table
A couple of small flowers in bright white vases
The place to be seen.
I hardly knew a person, but every head seemed to smile
As we passed
Not a Country Place at all
But a city space with traces of intrigue
This is my mother, I wanted to say.
I’ve always been proud of her style
Her excitement that I was in the city she used to call home
When she first left home in the 60s.
In 1990 I was new to Oz
And didn’t know many people at all
I was proud anyway
Glad to show her off
Happy to let her know things were fine
She, relieved to know that I had taken some bit of learning
Turning it into something good
And the sky was blue
That day, and the days since
Not a Country Place at all
But an endless dining room of possibility!
I never revisited it, and it closed a couple years later
But it, and that beautiful perfect day
I had her all to myself, for the showing, for the talking
For the dreaming…
That day with just me and my Mom
Will exist in my memory forever.

I love you Mom.
Ray 2009

Patrick in The Rain

Man, what a look.

That way you came into the bar, every head giving you the up and down.

Torn jeans, a funny shirt. Tattoos. A Raven on the right arm, with a Bible verse reference from Job underneath.

Shaved head, but that facial hair...coiffed to the umpth degree of BadAss.

And you had a name.

And were fun.

A true Bisexual...

A possible still married-to Wife?

A teen boy (18) in college...

A "...beautiful wife. Man, I'm so lucky." You said.

All the while an occasional grab of my knee...

I turned to greet a new patron and soon had an arm around me...

"you...are so handsome," he said.

I gave him the sign of Jesus, (Index finger/Thumb up...the first 3 fingers down) which actually meant "Back Off".

"Man, uh...you're too close." I said. I really wanted to run in abandon with it and lie about being married.

Although, since he didn't ask, and I thought he still might be married...I didn't admit anything.

Neither did he.

We spoke for a long time. He owns 2 cats, a dog...a Mut...stupid names like Barney, Benny and Buddy.

This made him laugh, and it was so real.

"You have the most beautiful eyes," he said. This made me want to shrink away and leave.

It used to be that my eyes were not so bright(and I know my thoughts so wide) however, I said "...really? Yours are a great brown. And they are beautiful as well."

I drank up quickly, knowing that I was getting myself into trouble, (but at the same time in ecstasy over anyone who would be attracted, especially a bisexual, after all these years of being married---it just doesn't happen like it used to happen...like I dream on occasion that it will happen).

I drank up.

"You on Facebook?"

"No"

"You on any email?"

"No." quite possibly the biggest lie of the century ...Baby.

"I hope to see you around then." I put my arm across his shoulder.

He was warm enough. Maybe not warm enough to warm me, but he sure set my temporary soul aflame.

Outside it was pouring a rain, and the town needed that rain.

I disappeared into it...thinking about him.

Speaking to a Wall by Sam Myrick

I wish that I could tell you
what a fuckoff you are.
you say things with a sincerity
about as valid as a politician's
you'll play the bigger person card
because outwardly you are
but when evidence is piling up
you're sleeping in your car
I wish that I could tell you
I'm fine with where we're at
where we've been
and where we may or may not go
but your true colours keep showing
and you'll pick a wound, instead of make it clean
you'll play your games like a prepubescent girl
daffodils and daisies, still just aren't my fill.
I wish that I could tell you
I'm over it today.
But the way things keep on going
I just hurt because you
can't keep your stories straight.

G San by Ian Lowry

Old man
...sipping Green Tea...
...soaking in the mellow yellow light
of the afternoon sun
..will his life story soon be done?

...a story of battles lost and won,
of first true love and
long lost son...
tell me of Mt. Fuji, dear retired shogun,
of bitter heart ache and joyous fun?

Out time together is over.

A teardrop down your face, does run...
the evening moonlight we both must shun?

Kind Old Man
...rest your eyelids and withered hands...
your dreams sans Geisha Girls with crimson fans;
soft fingers caressing distant lands---memories of
the ancient times of old Japan.

Out time together is over.

Marriage Vows (re-visited during a time of economic hardship) By Mrs. Plonk

I can tell you don’t really like me.
I can tell by your signs.
The sound of your voice, irritated with me.
I say all the wrong things.
Yeah.
You really do hate me. I hear the seethed tonal inflections.
...Any other Nobody in your gym,
...You wouldn’t pay the time of day.
Gotohellyouuntrainedunembarrassedflabbybrokeasshole?
What I don’t know.
What I haven’t learned.
What a liability?
Will I ever become?
I know, that’s a question for you.
I honor you.
My friend’s say that’s my problem; that I hold you, a pedestal,
My pistol that could
Blow my brains out
At any moment
Or minute.
Depending on my self reliance.
I am torn, worn, sojourn…without
That original friendship.
That---you'll never let it Re-Happen Friendship.
That, come with me, let’s build, Friendship,
Sure Akinship?
That---your life doesn’t matter, my life doesn’t matter;
Our lives as a team, matters...
…let’s forge ahead and build together?
We may be the only two who believe in this thing.
Let’s make it happen.
Maybe---we---the only two souls in the entire universe who see this potential?
Maybe it’s crazy; but it’s…me. Me here.
…just me.
And suddenly---by your body language--- it doesn’t really matter for you?
Or does it? Are you hiding it? Again?
I still believe in you.
I do.
I asked you not to change.
I think you changed on me Man.

Acquired: Angry Paper Airplane Art Piece

This art piece is simple but speaks to those of us who havelost love and had to spell it out to ourselves on paper. I figured we had given our hearts to the wind anyway.

I wanted it as a simple entry piece to the exhibit and book project.

Made from a wadded-up love letter written in a rage filled black marker. the piece has been coated with a resin and built into it's foam core stand.

Courtesy: Donated by Artist "Tiki " George Hartley