One quote that I should always like to remember came from an eleven year old girl named Elizabeth.  I was helping a bundle of girls about her age bowl in the Special Olympics.  I am not sure what her handicap was, I guess developmental problems of some kind.  To me she seemed to be a wonderfully happy little girl who just wanted to be held.  She was sitting on my lap, waiting for her turn when she told me the most devilishly perfect, beautiful lie.

"I am not ticklish"

Imagine what it would be like if the only lies told in the world were just sneaky attempts to get hugged, kissed or tickled.

I am not ticklish either, Elizabeth

When I heard her hello
I could taste the good-bye
In the tone of her voice

She said that she wanted to see me
But I knew that she didn't
So I said she could come over

When she smiled at my door
It was only on her face
And her eyes no longer shined

We gave small talk
Like we never had before
And I realized I could not touch her

So I asked her to explain
What I already knew
Because it had to be said

And when she was through
I told her I was sorry
Even though she would not believe

And when she gave her good-bye
I heard the sound of a cry
That would start when I couldn't be there for her.

There was an old salesman; a peddler, he called himself
Who came to stay at my house when I was a boy
When he was on
His last business trip

To him we were strangers

One day
I asked the old salesman
If I could borrow his penknife.

He lent it to me

And when I tried to return it to him
He did not remember that it was his.

When I asked my troubled father
What I should do
He told me to keep it.

Someday I may give
That peddlers penknife
To my grandson
And I will tell him about the time
My grandfather gave it to me
When he was on
His last business trip.

Sitting naked in the rain,
I'm trying to break reality
In order to rebuild it
In a way that pleases me.
I dive deep in to my head,
I lie warm in my bed.

I gasp for breath

When I open my eyes
I am again,
Sitting naked in the rain.

I'm losin' some snoozin'
From ongoing bongoing...

Line Two

I think that it would do,
To end this poem at line two.


Line One**

I think that it would be fun...

My woman has good looks that amaze,
Nutmeg eyes into which I do gaze.
     But it's not what I see,
     That's distracting to me.
Her perfume, it's the scent; donut glaze.