It was coming on darkness,
It was a Monday, the place was
closed, no lights, but 'say for a
neon Blue and Red Budweiser
sign flashing in the front window.
My father had built this place
over 72 years ago, his dream,
a Fried Chicken Restaurant in
a one trafic light, logging and
two mills town of 2800 souls.

Dad's "Chick-Inn" thrived for a time,
everyone loved his friend chicken,
this long before anyone out West
ever heard of the Southern Colonel.
Dad cooked and Mom ran the front.

On Saturday nights when the hard top
races were on, it was standing room
only. Even the railroad crews stopped
on the tracks and walked crossed the
Interstate to get a bite, Highway big rig
Truckers parked all over town to get a
good home cooked chicken dinner, or
chicken fried beef steak, hot biscuits
and gravy, best coffee for miles around.

That place nearly killed my parents,
opened at 6AM all three meals served
'till around 7PM, one day off on Mondays.
I was around 6 years old, I did not know
or appreciate how hard they slaved.

They persevered for a few years, then
sold the place and we moved on to a
bigger town and they to jobs less stressful,
they even bought their first home ever.

I remember the good smells from that kitchen
and sitting in one of the booths getting pleasant
attention from all the town folks. For my brother
and I even in old age, those are pleasant memories.

The old place looks pretty good, some new paint
and remodeling, the horseshoe counter is gone,
the seating is all different, no booths just tables.
It's now boasting "Fine Mexican Food Served Here",
and now some other family, one of many over all
these years I suspect, toils, mired in their dream of
restaurant ownership. The little town has not changed
much, one Mill closed down; one remains. It has
three traffic lights now and a population of 8000.

The sign outside the Fair Grounds a block away,
advertises "Hard Top Races this Saturday Night
                           Come One Come All."

Political grenades
Are thrown from afar

From another direction
Come claims
That similar bombs
Are cast
Toward them

Will the center hold

We are living
On a political tilt-a-whirl
Exposed to unbelievable
Tosses and turns
Intended to throw us
To one side or the other

We are living
As though plagued
With a political psychosis
As though beset
With a political schizophrenia

Will the wheel slow
Will the center hold
Will our democracy continue
Or will the center fold

Little breeze toing and froing
Little girl dancing with the leaves
Sunlight flitting thro’ the trees
Chestnuts falling
Ploughboys reaping
Hedgerows sleeping
Night owl calling
Grass so still
It’s as if it’s lost the will
To keep growing

Days and nights changing
Dappled shadows rearranging
Dance is slowing down, down
Little girl is going
When the summer slows
Farmer is reaping
Autumn shades deepening
Grass so still
As if it’s lost the will
To keep growing

He never allowed me to move freely
Or celebrated my rhythm

Unless I did what he wanted
And danced only for him…

Who is this familiar stranger
Staring back at me in the
Cracked mirror?

I swear I’ve know her my whole life
Yet, I cannot seem to recognise
The person behind those
Dull blue eyes …

Where did she go?
Will I ever know?
I hope she won’t be lost for long
I’m not sure how much longer
I’ll be able to hold on…

The road back to myself
Was no easy one to walk
I often veered off course
According to their talk

For I was given false directions
By a friend(ly) stranger along the way
Or blindly followed in the darkness
One that I trusted who lead me astray

I stumbled, oh I stumbled hard
But with each significant blow
Something in me awakened,
I was taught a lesson I needed to know

Then came a day when I became
A true traveller: Both bold and wise
I trusted my instincts by
Setting alight their atlas of lies

I followed then a road, determined
By what my soul yearned for
(a kind of love and acceptance)
Not found at another’s door

I came to discover that I needn’t
Cross far lands and sail the seas...
I was far, yet so very close
To the place where I wanted to be

And when I found myself again,
Tears of joy trickled down my face
As I embraced her, I knew their
Was no destination like this place

Have you seen the newest
subdivisions they are building
these days? Tiny two story
******* box things all alike
standing cheek to jowl with
maybe three feet in between,
one might be ok standing alone,
but thirty in a row is shockingly
disturbing. With no yard front
or back to plant any flowers or
even let your dog take a crap.

I suppose they are affordable
for new first-time buyers in
this everything overpriced
world we seem to be living.

As for me, I would rather live
in a van down by the river.

Is your umbrella,
Protects you from the angst of life,
Has your back against all odds,
Love her and be there for her while she is still alive
3/9/2022