Monday, December 17, 2018
The Man Who Let It All Go
To forget a woman.
Overdid it!
Starts looking like a bum at work.
Step from homeless!--no kidding.
How to straighten him out?
Steered him to Religion.
Scoffed he!
More secular and non-hick counseling
at the university? Just sneeringly argued
with everyone in the group!
Self-Help articles with blatant headlines
via the net from his friends?
He can’t stop laughing!
At the last termination interview at
our mutual--and meticulously cautious--
corporation, he suddenly discovers
“I truly truly literally STINK!”
Hardly intellectual.
Olfactory, rather.
He took off the next day to scrub himself,
actually iron his clothes!
At the meeting then to fire him, he’s
all quite immaculate charm!
all quite immaculate charm!
And, since big outfits will chose the solution of less publicity, and thus scanter Big-Shot-Attention, ordered to quietly get back to work.
And never ever again to darken any important doorway!
Really lucky to toil where nobody
gives a shit about you, yes?
Labels: diffidence, Executive, hygiene, nervous breakdown, personnel, procedure, psychology, religion, rules, sarcasm, self-help, work
Tuesday, March 27, 2018
Bound
When Murphy Carker couldn’t
sleep, he instituted a rule.
These rules covered personal
and moral conduct mostly, but
some were financial.
Each forgotten upon awakening,
though a residue of calm remained.
Until it didn’t. He remembered one.
Now his life is chaos! Remembers
others, some in quite surreal form.
“I’m going nuts,” he confides in
Accountant Jerry.
“No you’re not. Clarity is hard.
Nobody ever achieved it easily.
Certainly not unconsciously!”
“You’re full of shit!” he informed
him, feeling it the first step back.
Labels: clarity, conduct, conscious, dreams, financial, rules, unconscious
Sunday, July 24, 2016
Too Many Heavy Things
"Craig is such a Boy SCOUT!"
He wants to invoke Rule One then,
but can’t help saying "Well my
Ruthie's no Girl Scout. That’s for sure!"
"But, I know, we're not to be discussing
spouses. I mean it's such good luck our
small conventions in this same hotel."
At that point she attempts to add a
confirming smile.
"Look! I got Ritz Crackers and there's
nice cheddar spread in your mini frig.
Lets go to my room and feast. I brought
this Kraut Ice Wine. Delicious! I stuck it
in the little freezer thing."
But she is pondering. "We...always have this
little pop-off before. You...could have let
Rule One slide."
"Inevitable! We'll get through it."
Both laugh. Maybe no argument this time.
"Most of the world is lonely," she decides to
finally say.
A dance band starts rehearsing in the ballroom.
Wheezy and flat.
He maintains she says too many heavy things.
Labels: affair, band, convention, heavy speech, infidelity, loneliness, Music, Professionals, rules
Sunday, January 03, 2016
Colors of Her History
Fast Changes
"No more dumb blonde, me!" she laughed
with Cindy-Lil.
"Your personality is changing instantly, Red!"
The first Speed-Date didn't notice.
Second: "A color not seen in Nature!"
Before she could unleash a stinger,
Max the Butcher in her face.
“I never knew a redhead!”
“Lots of things.”
“This coffee is horse piss!”
“I never fail there!”
“Good enough for me! Let’s go!
I got a condo, plus a cottage in
Wildwood, plus cars, plus...!”
“What’s your minuses?”
“What you see is what you get! I’m rough
but will learn. You’ll get plenty of household
and personal money, and no questions asked.”
“This is supposed to be about dating!
Not even that, it’s so fast.”
“I’m sick to death of fooling around!”
“Didn’t some buzzer sound or something?
You’re to move!”
“Not without you!”
“I’m...not even a natural redhead!”
“You’re natural enough woman for me!”
“Did...I wear a coat?”
“It’s hot as hell out there!”
“Appropriately.”
“You whispered. I didn’t quite get...”
“I said Let's go!”
Labels: dating, hair color, haste, redhead, Romance, rules, Speed Dating
Monday, March 24, 2014
Where the Wind Goes
Rotational Date
-Opera shows the loves of large women.
-Like me?
-No, you're a sylph by comparison.
-Why all these large ones then?
-I think it’s the huge cavity for things to resonate in, and the lard
to hold it down so it doesn't fly outa control.
-Or...something.
-Yeah, I know, I'm...not smart. Opinions about everything, though.
-I've noticed.
-But how about you? Quiet. Do you run deep?
-Clash, more like.
-Oh well, the rule says half an hour. Mostly my blabbing
I know, but...
-I don't wish to meet anyone else.
-Well, you're defeating the purpose.
-That's the best thing you've said. Must you move to
another table?
-Not unless you force me.
-We're the best either of us can do.
-Speak for yourself. You're better than I can do.
-Let's get out of here and take a ride.
-Where...?
-Where the wind goes.
Labels: date, large women, meet and greet, opera, rules, Speed Dating, vulnerability
Saturday, January 25, 2014
By The Book
Vive les règles
The baker never enters the shop. Rather, leaves his
fragrant trays on tables in a room the girls call
Limbo. There, they or his wife fetch them, first
making sure he has left.
After many years, Dr André insists he slow down,
so another baker hired to assist.
Now the women know Limbo is safe when the
murmuring stops.
What they decipher: opposing points of Grammar.
Labels: bakery, French, grammar, rules
Friday, December 24, 2010
Rules
The Rule of One
Missing my coat
in Florida. It’s
warming some recipient
of Northern Charity.
I need it back. O
I could bring a photo
to my favorite store
and they could uncover
a duplicate. But not
the particular coat.
Never, ever, the particular.
The Rule of Two
A cat occurs on my sofa,
just a wispy white cravat
breaking her midnight black.
Gather unto docile arms
and out the door. Upon my
immediately returning, she’s there
again. Or twin. Or something mystic.
I don’t speculate but just reprise action. What-
ever. There’s a Rule of Two in some removals.
If that’s broken, and she’s once more there,
the universe, itself, is massively adjusting.
The Rule of One
Missing my coat
in Florida. It’s
warming some recipient
of Northern Charity.
I need it back. O
I could bring a photo
to my favorite store
and they could uncover
a duplicate. But not
the particular coat.
Never, ever, the particular.
The Rule of Two
A cat occurs on my sofa,
just a wispy white cravat
breaking her midnight black.
Gather unto docile arms
and out the door. Upon my
immediately returning, she’s there
again. Or twin. Or something mystic.
I don’t speculate but just reprise action. What-
ever. There’s a Rule of Two in some removals.
If that’s broken, and she’s once more there,
the universe, itself, is massively adjusting.
Labels: rules
