“Is this what you do?”
Sitting on a dock in Sausalito looking out over
One of the grandest scenes that I had ever seen, I replied,
“What do you mean?”
Moving her feet further away from mine she replied,
“Travel around the country to see women that you barely know?”
Leaning back I answer her half laughing,
“Nope, haven’t had a date in twenty five years.”
“Is that how long you were married?”
“Twenty- three,” I answered changing the subject I continued,
“Sorry, but this view, it is beautiful, it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen.”
Ignoring my intended change she says,
“Well, I hope you know that just
Because you flew from Atlanta to San Francisco - that doesn’t
Mean that you are getting lucky tonight.”
Turning toward her, I responded, “Come on, just relax, can’t we
Just try and enjoy the evening?”

It was about an hour after sunset when we decided to walk back
Up the street to a two story restaurant to get something to eat.
We stopped at the door to look at the menu,
I could hear music from inside and that’s when I noticed the sign
That read:
“Open Mic Competition Tonight – $10 to Enter, $250 & CD to the Winner.”

We went in and were seated and soon we ordered our meals.
The ice was so chokingly thick between us that I was
Beginning to wonder why it was that I had come so far.

We talked little during the meal, mostly about her work and
About my son, who was ten and the fact that I had custody.
“I figure it’s hard for a man in Georgia to get custody of children?”
She said, clearly making a question within a statement.
“Oh, I suppose we are not as backward in the South as we are made out to be,”
I answered her listening to the entertainment coming from the upstairs bar.
I was watching through the windows of the restaurant as a
Huge barge moved across the glittering waters of San Francisco bay.
Off to one side I could make out the lights of the Golden Gate Bridge.
Amazingly beautiful.
“It must be nice to be able to have views like this everyday,” I commented.
She hardly noticed that I’d said anything.

When we had finished eating, I paid and we got up to leave.
As we passed by the stairway leading up to the bar I said,
“Let’s go listen to some of the local talent.”
She nodded her approval and said that she needed to go to the ladies room.
With her gone I gave the man behind the booth $10 and filled out the papers.
When she returned we climbed the stairs and were seated
At a table just in front of the stage.
A woman was singing her rendition of
“The Tambourine Man.”
It was truly an eclectic crowd that somehow was still enthralled in the
Middle to late 1960’s, you know the type.
The Haight Ashbury district was sure alive and well here in Sausalito.

I watched my date, she wasn’t impressed, not in the least.
The bar had a house band that would play whatever music the
New entertainer wanted to be played.
We listened to several other hopeful stars.
Then they called my name.

I looked to my date and saw the surprise in her eyes as I said,
“Would you excuse me for a minute?”
I took to the stage asking the keyboard player to move over.
I turned around and winked at my date.
And then I began to sing and play…

'Sittin on the Dock of The Bay.'

Having sung my song, I returned to our table.
Did I break the ice?
The $250 prize was a nice little footnote,
As was the rest of the evening.
No more wasted time………*

(Click or cut and paste the link below to hear me on the CD)

Clouds rolling across our azure sky
As far as my eyes could see.
The white man told us another lie
For he just couldn’t let us be.
Behind us all of our homes were burned,
Nothing as far as they were concerned.
Destroying us and all our years
Marching us onto the trail of tears.

Behind the mask they wore a disguise
In an attempt to cover their lies.
Teardrops falling like rain
While our blood spilled again and again.
One in front of another across our sacred land,
Oh if only we could have had our last stand.
Destroying us and all our years
Marching us on the trail of tears.

First the weakest fell, then the old
Then the youngest, all turning cold.
First my Aunt, then my mother,
Then father, my son, my brother.
I carried them all as far as I could
While the soldiers beat my manhood.
Destroying us and all our years
Marching us into the trail of tears.

I focused on one soldier with a crooked cross
As he told us it wasn’t far off -
I must killed him a thousand times.
He laughed and spoke in white man’s rhymes
As my feet began to bleed.
Cold, hunger, thirst, the water we need -
Denied to us and all our years
Marching us down the trail of tears.

More than a thousand miles we walked
And yet today my people are un-talked.
Could you walk barefoot in the cold that long
When all those you loved fell so wronged?
All for nothing but a gold filled piece of land
From which we, my people were banned -
Removing us and all of our years.
Crawling us along in our trail full of tears.

What lines offer evenness
Amongst a passionate play?
Would not actors stand in line
Waiting to play in the heated Malay?
Roles cast of heart strings
Tied between lines whispered phrases.
What right has any character
To come alive whilst on stage?

One scripted part comes right on cue
As one mark meets the other
Right in the middle of the author’s view.
The background accompaniment
Playing softly to the screen test.
When suddenly one moves the other
While that one moves all the rest.

They stray from the script confusing all the stage.

At first tip toes lead into a scripted kiss
But then she falters losing her gauge.
Music continues its composure
While feet flounder in the demise.
She becoming the new composer
As he gets lost somewhere in her eyes.
They came to try out,
To play love in a play.
But what began to play out
Was a true love – some say.

For they could not hold back
And before all the audience,
Shoulders touch while hand in hand.
He breaks rank against the lines
While their lips cover each others
Engulfing love’s unscripted reach.

The music changing tempo
Giving more meaning to each.
Passions groping forward
Creating a brand new play.
She losing her shoes
As he shed his spats.
Non refrained skin opens and just
As this was about to become a part of that's,
The curtain swiftly closing as
The audience’s heads all tilt sideways.

Oh well - after all it was a passion’s play.
Maybe the author knew it wasn’t important what to say.
Once started, the lines conjure up
Loves unscripted intent.
Unprepared actors
Lose their marks
Lovingly spent.

I see you sitting beside the road under a tall Elm tree
Near a thicket with a stream running by at  your feet.
Your head held up by the one hand
With your elbow resting against the tree.
Your body turned away from me on one side.
Dressed in a velveteen camisole top with a white skirt – all alone.
As I approach you - you turn your eyes toward me
And say, “Shall you not leave me too, my love?”
Looking into your eyes I see somehow that I must be invisible
Because your question was not meant for me.
It was for the very thing in the essence of love.
Tears trickle down your cheeks
As my heart and soul sits down beside you.
You allow me to wipe the tears away
And I watch as they reappear one by one -
Falling ever so slowly into my offered handkerchief.
Then I set my handkerchief into my own tears and
Then back into yours once again.
All the while feeling the most
Indescribable emotions – ones for which
I have no way to dispose of or account for.

Taking you into my arms I say to you:
“Yes, I am positive that I have a soul within me and
All the scientists, nor all the learned professors
Or all of their books combined could ever convince me otherwise.
I know it must be true, dear one –
Because you could not be so lucky as to have the only one.
If ever love does leave you –
It will be to go to heaven to make sure that
Your place is properly prepared for you.”

You lean into me, holding me
Like a lost child in a never ending maze.

And then I awaken…
Another night passes into the morning of the never was.
Are things the way they seem
Or are they simply unfinished lines - just because?

Sitting, she opened the lapel of my jacket and from
My shirt pocket – she took my pen.
Then from her purse she pulled out a small diary
And carefully unwound the ribbon from its leather binding
Until it opened her into the next available page.

“Shall I write” she asked, “Or is it – I shall write?”
Questioning her flippant words I reply,
“But is there a difference?”
“Oh yes”, she said, “There is the greatest of differences –
For in the one there is a question while in the other there is a statement.”

“Hum,” said I – thinking ore her commentary – “Yes I suppose
In one sense with one remark you are the slave while
In the other remark you are the master.”
I watched as she wrote into her diary today’s date and then
She wrote, “His mind works in a perfect circle.”

“Why did you write that?” I questioned.
“Because I must be a slave to what I write,” she responded.
“I beg to differ madam”, said I, “That was clearly a
Statement – a statement about me – that makes you the master.”
“No”, she said, “I am merely serving YOUR pen.''

I am apt to be taken with all kinds of people at first sight:
But never more so than when a poor devil comes to offer
Her opinions to an even poorer devil as I.
Oh I know my own weaknesses as I always suffer them in every thought,
Drawing concentric rings about them according to the mood that I am in.

“Is it because I’m a woman?” she asked, “Does my gender preclude
My ability to be a slave to words or do you believe all women are the master?”
I thought on her questions for a minute seeing full well the trap that she
Was so eloquently leading me into – for on the one hand I am to lead -
While on the other – and this one must be the real truth – I am to be led.

“When you first walked into the lobby”, I said, “I found myself
After every excuse that I could make to my soul to meet you.
Your genuine look and the very air around you at once
Determined that any matter between us was in your favor.
So I came over to you to see what it was that you wanted me to do.”

She put the pen to the paper once more and wrote, “Well almost
A perfect circle but somewhere the circle seems to be broken.”
“Now hold on a minute,” I said wrapping my arms on my chest, “You want
To write in your diary that MY CIRCLE is broken when you’ve not
Had the benefit of my accompaniment for more than a mere 5 minutes?”

She looked into my face, “OH - I - SEE, you take an offense that I sum up
Your worth based upon less than 5 minutes with you when you yourself
Just said that you came over to me – without knowing me mind you – to see
What it was that “I” wanted YOU to do – excuse me but if anyone here is
Being presumptuous - then “I” think that it must surely be you.”

I walked around her chair to the left in a broad
Circle until I came directly up to her on the one side of the seat.
“You know”, I remarked, “You may be right my circle may be broken
For it seems like there is SOMETHING IN MY WAY.”
She put my pen to her paper again and wrote “He’s a little slow but -

Thank God I think there’s some hope for him still. We SHALL see –
Or is it – SHALL we see?”
She handed me my pen, closed her diary and re-wrapped the ribbon about
It being sure to bookmark her place – her place? My Place?
She held out her hand and I took it in mine helping her to her feet.

“Yes, I suppose WE shall see”: I said as I kissed the back of her hand and
Then we turned to walk side by side toward the elevator corridor.
We reached the elevators and one door was open so we stepped aboard.
The door closed - “No one is a slave nor are they the master -
There can be no perfect circle until that truth is realized,” she whispered.

She turned to me as the elevator rose,
“We have to stop meeting like this”, I said.
“Oh but I know how you like roll playing”, she answered.
“But I was hoping that this time I could lead you”, I replied.
“You know you love it”, she whispered as she pushed the button marked

**Stop!!

One evening, while going to a small concert being held at Martini’s,
I was just entering the door of the establishment when a woman
Was coming out in a rush with tears in her eyes.
I moved as quickly to one side as I could - to give her free passage.
She did the same only to the same side as I and in a most compromising
Manner we solidly ran our two heads together with a thud.
She immediately jumped to the other side to get out of the door.
It seemed as if I were as unlucky as she for as she sprang to one side, so did I -
A second time, and a third – as if I were intentionally trying to block her way.
It was ridiculous and though she smiled through her tears I felt so unbelievably
Inadequate to move anywhere, so finally I just stood still so she could pass.
But the guilt of those tears beckoned me that this literal bumping into each other
Was not by mere chance, so much so that I now had not a reason to see the concert.
So I stepped back out of the doorway and followed her with my eye
As she made her way down the sidewalk.
She looked back at me twice looking like she was running away from me.
To anyone else who might have been watching it might have seemed
As if I were the transgressor and indeed one woman
Entering Martini’s gave me a look of scorn as if I
Were the reason for the woman’s tears.
I shook my head trying to say, “No, it isn’t me,” but it seemed
A futile plea to her as she had condemned me already.
But whether I was to blame or not mattered little
Because as a human being - did I not have the duty to reach out
To any creature who might be in distress?
I made a thought in my head that said that I should apologize
So I started out after her – no that’s not the correct translation –
I lit out after her, whoever she was, hoping that I could be of some assistance.

When I had caught up to her she was standing on the corner hailing a cab.
It was dark and she was dressed all in black and every cab that passed
Acted as if she were invisible.
It was beginning to rain and as I stepped up next to her I took off
My coat and wrapped it around her which at first startled her.
Then I begged her forgiveness for the earlier incident, trying to
Explain that I was merely trying to get out of her way.
She answered that she too was guided by the same intention
Towards me and she said that it was her fault and not mine.
So we reciprocally and sufficiently apologized and thanked
Each other until I saw a cab approaching from down the street.
I stepped out onto the street and whistled at the cabbie and
The driver quickly pulled up beside us.
I opened the back door to the cab and handed her in it
While she squirmed and removed my coat handing it back to me.
One of the buttons on my coat was steadfast hung in her black sweater
And as we both tried to free the button – our heads butted again.
We both laughed as I said that this was the fourth time that our heads
Had met each other tonight.
She put her lips to my ear and whispered,
“I wish to heaven that you would make me a fifth bumping.”
She moved over in the seat and I joined in beside her thinking
How life is too short to be long about the forms of it.

What a huge span of adventures can be
Had in such a short span of one lifetime.
At least to he who takes interest in every thing he
Has the eye to see what time, chance and signs
Are perpetually holding out as he journeys
On his way. Missing nothing that he can
Fairly lay his hands upon, rather than

Creating an essay of human nature, or an experiment of the senses
Which always manages to put the blood to sleep.
I pity the man that can follow me around intensely
Only to argue and cry that all around us is barren as he weeps.
And by his own omission – so it is for him – he who may say
He will not cultivate the fruit that is all around him.
I get up clapping my hands declaring cheerily that this is MY day!

And some days I do find out how the day shall
Call out all of my affections -something I could never do alone.
Sunny or cloudy, rainy or snowy – it makes no difference at all -
I fasten on the day like a helmet and seek out something to bring home -
Is it here – Is it there? Is it me – Is it you?
So if I fail to get out of the rain once in while
Just say that I strapped on a wet, rainy day and a smile.