For many years,
I didn't own a
television.
I didn't want one.
The news gave me
anxiety, and most of
the movies were
horrible.
Bad actors,
terrible acting
and predictable plots.

I wasn't buying any
of it.

My Dad loved
watching movies.
He often used the word,
contrived
when summarizing them.

I remember watching
The Grapes of Wrath
with him.
After the movie, Dad talked
about leaving in his will,
a list of his ten favorite
movies for his seven kids
to watch sometime.
He wanted us to know
him better.

He forgot about it and died
a few years later.
I always thought Dad had
too much faith in mankind.
But, after watching The Grapes
of Wrath again, maybe he
didn't.
I hope we all live until
we die.

We were drinking ourselves
into the grave.
I escaped temporarily.
Greg didn't.
He was crossing a
busy street in Iowa City.
In his baggy, ***** jeans
was a bottle of ***** that
he had just lifted.
I'm guessing he was in
too big a hurry to
"get well" and knock
off the shakes.
A minivan ran him down.

Before the ***** wrecked him,
he was a lawyer, and a pretty
**** good golfer.
But what I remember the
best were our days at Prairie
Meadows, playing the ponies.
We cashed a few winning
tickets together, and
tore up some losers too.

God bless you, little buddy.
You're on the homestretch now.

Music brings back memories
Reminded of that person
An intimate moment together
On the road a long adventure home
Songs shared among friends
Flashback to better times
Upbeat bass matches the heart
A numb soul begins to heal
Hurt filled with hopeful melodies
Feeling emotions connected to lyrics

The hatch’s eyes were glowing
Full of cellar lights
Flies whirred through
Out of a timeless thicket

In the thicket of timelessness
These moments existed
Because they are yet to come
Through mouths of stone-throwers

We were hidden in the night
In a crack of the station
Near Branko’s jowls
On a floor strewn with marbles

Glitter children
In search of faith
With red markers
From stairwell to stairwell

But the avenues longed for us
So we moved into the realm of leaves
Through a glowing hatch
Into the pull

A vast pull from yesterday
Full of bear cries
Amidst the glass houses
At the end of the downfall

I long for You —
I pant for You —

Desperately, I scream, internally,
Till my face is blue —

Here, there is no water,
Only rock, capturing no dew;
But devastatingly reminds me:
There is no home but You!