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Patrick McCombs Nov 2011
Daddy left home when i was five
Didn't know how i was going to survive
All he left was a post-it note
Telling us how he jumped the boat
Right of the deep end
We had nothing to defend
So we left. We headed west
Mom and i tried to make the best
Scrimping and saving every cent
Working where ever we went
And we made it.
We survived every blow and every hit
We rode out the storm
And now we are safe and warm
In a house of our own
~  

                          Ranting and raving
                        Scrimping and saving
                  The words you hold in reserve
                        The breadth and width
                            Of words unsaid
                  Says more than you ever could
                           Waxing and waining
                           Your ever disdaining
                    The lines are writ on your face
                               I read between
                              to see to be seen
                The secrets you've kept in your heart
                     With the knowing and showing
              You can better understand who you are
                            The silence between
                              What you are now
                         And what you have been
                Is the silence that holds you from me.
                                              ~
Sophie Lucy Sep 2020
Scrimping and scraping,
saving every last dime,
Working away from nine 'til five,
"We'll get there eventually!" they'd always say,
Closer to that dream house day by day.
To save the pennies, they stopped going out,
no more luxurious food in their mouths.

They'd both come home and look at more places,
a pained and drained look on their overworked faces,
Then when the time came to go to bed,
She hadn't the energy to even give head,
Their *** life soon became none existent,
Hour by hour they became more distant,

Finally the money was all saved up,
They bought the dream house and matching cups,
The pair began to laugh like before,
This brand new life was never a bore.

She'd proudly iron his shirts for work,
and off he'd go with that familiar smirk,
He soon got promoted and travelled the world,
all part of the job but he'd left that poor girl.
They spoke on the webcam every night,
until one morning he missed his flight.

She dialled his number frantically,
But couldn't reach him, what could this be?

What could have happened to the love of her life?

It turned out he'd just found himself a new wife.

She only found out from someone he worked with,
This was a life she never thought she'd live.

So there she stayed in that lonely dream house,
Betrayed and forgotten in her tear stained blouse.
11:11pm
Information superhighway bumper to binary bumper.
Stark contrast versus deserted macadam thoroughfares.
Magnification rendered visualization coronavirus
alias covid 19 courtesy electron microscopy plus

sundry computer technology yours truly (popeye
Olive Garden variety generic layman) breathtakingly
held spellbound, née utterly transfixed vibrant
spectacular design regarding inexplicable dynamic
forces wrought creation (albeit - alluringly beautifully

charming, deceptively eminently fascinating, and
globularly highly intriguing biochemical cellular
denizens - indubitably jackknifing kindred livingsocial
man/womankind now outstripping Buffy the vampire

(weakened immunity system of the down) slayer
kickstarting pandemic induces **** sapiens to
experience extravagant fancy feast humble pie
(just desserts) necessitate quarantine to minimize
transmission, whereby (Gogol Ling) dead souls

agonizingly writhe within purgatory tests mine
Unitarian/nonestablishmentarian credo, never with
me wildest imagination intimating detrimental fatal
impact avast swath terra firmae, aye attest dominant

primate species, not necessarily lost cause, nor
civilization and discontents forsaken, but buzz
feeding foretaste (think while leg propped atop desk -
armageddon), of end times nonetheless triggering
linkedin helter skelter, wrenching economy (globally

webbed) doleful Lake Woebegone citizens haphazardly
remaining approximately six feet between another
human beings scrabbling, scrambling, scrimping, saving
international decree obligating painstaking handwashing

absolute zero socialization (comprising no more than ten
people), said groupon crowdsource commingling verboten,
yes tis moost ideal for solitary fellow (me barely a Yogi)
yabba dabbling playing online solitaire, chess, listening
to deep sleep music, meditating, reading, and/or writing.
the first time this summer,
when martyrdom got chucked aside for cold comfort.

How heavenly the climate controlled apartment
unit b44 felt and **** the torpedoes
(originated from a quote
attributed to Admiral David Farragut
during the Battle of Mobile Bay
in the American Civil War)
about being the poster child for Peco.

Sensitivity to global warming
increased intolerance against
hazy hot and humid weather
adversely affecting me
the older I get,
thus body electric of mine
caving into temptation
to set the digital dial
at a brisk sixty five degrees
quickly delivering relief
amenable to me a married
nonestablishmentarian, sexagenarian,
and Unitarian baby boomer,
who readily attests to being
a human who doubles up
as a bipedal hominid creature,
who relishes drinking
in the cool purified respite.

As a bouncing baby, introspective boy,
pensive prepubescent, tumultuous teen
and emerging adult,
I grew up in the shadow of “Glen Elm”
the purported summer home
of one Mister Leiper,
(maybe an unsuspecting reader
linkedin to his genealogical family tree,
which tidbit would appease
the curiosity of yours truly)
built during the early nineteen hundreds
and lacked air conditioning
namely because such amenity
did not exist
although modern air conditioning
got invented in 1902 by Willis Carrier,
who developed a system
to control temperature and humidity
at a printing plant in Brooklyn, New York.

The childhood home
at 324 Level Road,
Collegeville, Pennsylvania
additionally lacked proper insulation,
and a furnace in the basement
piped heated throughout the house
from a storage tank to the burner
using a fuel pump,
a typical part of the burner assembly,
whereat said pump
draws the oil and pressurizes it
before sending it to the burner nozzle
where it is ignited to generate heat.

Many occasions found mother
turning down the thermostat
to cut costs cause she grew up
dirt poor in Coney Island, New York
and her psyche got indelibly impressed
with scrimping and saving
even at the inconvenience
of myself and siblings;
but years later (after mom passed away)
father purchased a window unit
(perhaps getting a discount
with his General Electric association)
just for the kitchen.

I try to abide
by self imposed energy efficient standards
(ever mindful of the first law of thermodynamics
also known as the law of conservation of energy,
states that energy
cannot be created or destroyed,
but it can be transformed
from one form to another)
not just when sequestering myself
within where I reside
(and if negligent,
the wife quickly reminds me
in her screechy voice
of a light left on
or the bathroom door left ajar
if activating the central air
echoing a similar refrain
how mother did likewise),
but also when mapping out a strategy
when driving aiming to conserve fuel
by consolidating going on fool's errands
to minimize unnecessarily
spinning wheels frivolously.

— The End —