reflection

maybe this was all he would be
a few words a few thoughts
a string of moments tied together
by his ability to type
ah
what a wondrous thing
life
maybe this was all he could be
a simple typist
a man at the computer
tapping his foot in time to the music
mulling over the day behind him
not ready for the day before him
dreaming of things he couldn't attain
hating the time spent wasted
smiling at the time spent
contemplating
thinking
writing
wishing
it was all there
all in his head

41degrees15feet10.33inchesNorth - 111degrees56feet21.51inchesWest

.



From


my satellite


i will watch over you


i will zoom in


and watch over your parked car


i will zoom out


and watch over the mountains


behind your house


i will stand watch


over you


i will protect you


from my satellite


somewhere in space


in geosynchronous orbit


above the place


my heart resides




.

My Meatloaf is My Life

What would you like for dinner tonight?
I don't know, what do we have...?
Meatloaf.
Meatloaf sounds fine.
Okay. But are you sure you want meatloaf?
What else is there?
I could thaw some chicken, and make Ginger Glazed Chicken, but that would mean we won't eat until 9 p.m.
But I'm hungry.
I could make Mac and Cheese...
Meatloaf is fine.
Are you sure?
If that's the best option, yes.
How's the script going?
Slow.
Do you want broccoli or corn?
Corn.
Really? Broccoli would be a better choice.
Okay then, broccoli.
You'll have to run to the store then, because we don't have any fresh broccoli.
Why do you suggest broccoli, if we don't have any?
Because it would go well with the chicken.
But I said meatloaf was okay.
Well, if you really want meatloaf, then it won't be an issue.
Okay.
All right then.
All right.
Meatloaf it is.

The fact that he shook hands with his left hand helped make him more interesting than he really was. At the very least, it threw people off guard when they first met him. The fact that his wife was a writer who had not written anything in five years, not even a grocery list, helped make him seem patient and kind, although he really wasn't. (She could tell you this without words, just in the way she held her shoulders when he would tell jokes.) The fact that his youngest child, a boy, always spoke in a fake Scottish accent only served to heighten his appearance of eccentricity, because few fathers had a five-year-old with an IQ of 160, let alone one with a thick, phony brogue. All of these facts, along with many others, led him to believe his own story, which although quite interesting, was not true. Not to be harsh, because most of what made up his personality was interesting and real. But for whatever reason, his need to be something other than he was, drove him to create a facade he thought others preferred. "Aye, at soom point they'll discover ye fer whatcha really arre," his son had told him one night, shortly before bedtime. Fortunately, the boy genius meant this in a positive way, because despite the man's many faults, he really loved his father so very much. If only that fact didn't escape his father's notice.

Waterslide

The day that Jeremy decide to end his life was just like any other. High overhead the sun was shining, but still, he was so despondent. Maybe it was the letter from his girlfriend. Or perhaps the car payment he couldn't afford to make. Regardless, it was time for Jeremy to push so hard on the accelerator that this collection of steel and rubber he couldn't afford would become a rocketship hurtling him toward a new world. As the lines on the road flashed faster and faster, as the trees began to slightly blur, the strangest little thought came into Jeremy's head - it was this memory of an equally beautiful summer day when he was five and he and his father were climbing a waterslide under a scorching Utah sun. The water was so cool and delicious, the climb so challenging and fun. And then down the slide they went, accelerating faster and faster until that giant splash in the pool below. Without hesitation he let off the gas and pulled over, crying. Later that day he would call his father.

Miracle

He was there when she was born. Like a flash of light through the clouds at sunrise, this little girl was brought forth into his waiting arms.

If only he could bring it all back around to that moment, knowing what he knew now.

Enjoy the Game

One person says "do it this way" another one says "no, this way" which is odd, because you think "neither way seems right." In your heart, you want everyone to be happy. But it seems like they are all against this idea. A conspiracy. Are you a pinball? Perhaps it would seem so. And at the end of the fall toward the hole that eats you up and hides you from view, you are momentarily saved by some errant physical event known as a "flipper." Appropriate.