Iyla Grace 7.0

  Iyla Grace 7.0 hits the streets today.  Imagination is blooming in this release.  Iyla loves to read and be read to.  She will sit eyes-wide-open for as many films as Mama and Papa permit (no more than one a day).  Iyla is the author of endless stories and enlists her family members to act-out the parts –– a favored role for little sister, Eloise, is pet dog ;) ... My heart swells for this kid.  Happy Birthday, Little Buddy!

Other Couples Are Foreign Countries

You can visit them
like one visits Indonesia
or South Africa

or Brazil,
but you are a tourist
encountering 

the Chamber-of-Commerce
production 

of a relationship,
the Ministry of Propaganda's 

redacted adaptation.

You must venture beyond

the guarded perimeter

to experience the primal truths

of romantic coupling:

wander stark-naked 

into the wilderness,

go full native 

with the indigenous,

sacrifice 

to their heathen gods,

take up arms 

against their oppressors,

paint your flesh with 

the blood

of their enemies.

All are born savage.

The barbarian lurks beneath

a veneer of civility.

In the bedroom,

in the bathroom,

we cannot escape our carnal nature.

Some conceal it more than others,
many from themselves.

This is especially the custom
of social media mavens

who broadcast a tinsel parade 

through the capital square 

while their union rots 

at its foundation.

Each of us is on all fours

with a stranger, 

toiling 

for glimpses of the transcendent,
seizing them, at best, 

enough to prolong 

the alliance.

There is nothing to envy
but those magnificent moments
consummated
in your homeland.

**First published in Barbar Literary Magazine

Galveston, Texas (2019)

  One last gasp of summer before school begins:  Galveston, you won us over with your casual charm, Victorian architecture, friendly locals, the sun, sand and surf.  Eloise met the "big, salty ocean" this week.  Both girls were determined to prove Papa wrong -- "mermaids are real!"  I anticipate a return next summer to continue the search ;)

Eloise Jane 3.0

  Eloise "Weezy" Jane turns three-years-old today.  New words are emerging daily in her vocabulary ("poop" and "pee" remain staples).  Version 3.0 gives the best, full-body hugs –– this kid is a champion snuggler; she asks for privacy when on the potty, and wants to know where her big sister is at all times ... Happy Birthday, Lady Eloise!  

Mexico City (2019)

Julene and I heard enough praise from Mexico City travelers to compel a visit.  Three days of immaculate weather, cultural and culinary discovery, and warm, welcoming people made for a pleasant experience ... Muchas Gracias, Ciudad de México.  Hasta luego!

Wedlock

He does not complain when
she drinks too much at parties.
A solemn reserve masks his displeasure;
he is far too mannered
to provoke a scene.

While other couples quibble
over inane social decorum,
he maintains a decisive restraint,
even as she betrays
their most intimate affairs.

He does not censor her language
with unfamiliar guests,
although she spooks the delicate
among them with brash comedy
and wild gesticulation.

She croons to inviting men
when she finds him inattentive
and suffers aloud when he scorns
her amorous gesture.  Long after
others have bid goodnight,

he coaxes her to the car
and drives them home, stopping
along the rain-soaked freeway
so she may vomit her
memory of the evening.

He observes her beneath
a veil of tearful prayer and visions
of a cherished life reflected
in the pavement.  In the bedroom,
he rebuffs her advance,

insists she remove her soiled attire.
OK, Boss, she mutters.  You're the boss.
He draws a warm, saline bath,
presents fresh underclothes
and waits for her to change.


**First published in Duck Lake Journal

Conscientious Objector

The war began in adolescence:

up,

down,

up,

down,

up,

down.

With each passing year the struggle

was a heavier burden to bear:

up,

down,

up and

down.

He questioned what would be gained
from thousands more arm curls,
bench presses, squat thrusts,
endless hours of sweat and strain.

At first, the mission was clear:
build up the armor that would shield him
from the likes of the Cullen Brothers

who delighted in pulling down his shorts

in front of the playground girls.

Broadcast a preemptive signal:

DO NOT MESS WITH ME!

Protecting a delicate core was paramount.

His underdeveloped limbs and raging acne

embodied a defenseless perimeter

against neighborhood bullies,

ridiculing schoolmates,

callous caretakers.

Extracurricular activities were discarded

for a new religion in the gym

where biceps and barbells are hallowed

objects of worship. 

Now, his faith has eroded,

his core is hardened, campaign-tested, 

bearing the scars of hostilities lost and won ━

far more lost than won.

He resolves to put down the barbells
and tactfully retreat:

up,

down,

then out for good.

Mornings, rather than suffer the gym,
he will languish on the front porch
with a coffee and grand Wagner opera.
The parade of joggers will pass him by,
their sweaty flanks flapping in protest.

He will raise his mug in salute,
then turn to loftier ambitions.

Tomorrow, he will rise for the gym.