This Old Year Slips Away

Goodbye 2010, and all who went down with you. Maybe later I'll feel better about the new one coming in.

San Diego, Las Vegas, Cheyenne, Omaha, Chicago, Columbus, Rochester, Albany, Boston

It's like a small city's version of the Port Authority,
a confluence of streams
buses and trains from and to somewhere else,
but it's back in a time when you could
stretch out and sleep on a bench or
in one of those chairs with the coin operated television built in
without being molested
well, without being molested
by the police anyway.

You're down here with the other runaways,
in the same vicinity that is
but not together,
all alone.

You pretend not to recognize each other
and maintain a low profile.

You sit at the bus station's bar and
you nurse a single beer while pouring over
the Amtrack and Greyhound schedules
feeling a slowly building thrill
until you catch your reflection in the window.

You're disappointed with what you see, again
because how you look
is not how you started to feel
there for a second
and then you start walking
home
because it's almost dinner.

You're the second kind of runaway
the kind not going anywhere
while the others remain
in their charade
pretending someone
somewhere
is looking for them.

End of December

Some are marooned
surrounded by snow choked streets
or awash in thick mud
waist deep in the kitchen
while others are just left standing
at the foot of a collapsed bridge
where they know understanding
will never occur.

I helped with the dishes this time
and thought about a girl's brown eyes
bright and alive with happiness
at a wedding
and I thought about the possibility of skin cancer
the gravity of a stroke and
the certainty that these graying people
will leave us soon.

I worried for us and I wondered
what happened to us and
I felt nostalgia for
that feeling of
us.

I thought that there are people now in the world
who look over their shoulders in sudden terror
repeatedly
during the course of their day
prodded by the persistent, not-so-irrational fear
of a drone strike.

I told him about the victims of the floods
one third of the population
and he said
"aren't they the enemy?".

There is no us
I fear
and then think
that in Winter
one just waits
for Spring.

Black Flag, Charlie Chaplin, and The Grind

Last night was a ball. For a Tuesday night there was a great crowd - very interactive. I can't speak today, but it was well worth it. I'll sing any time. I'll scream any time anywhere!

Tonight: Black Flag!

My voice is pretty ragged due to a rigorous rehearsal last night for tonight's Black Flag set at Ralph's Rock Club. Yes, at mid-life I get a chance to vent my unresolved adolescent angst in a tribute to one of my favorite bands of all time. This should be fun.

I am not the man in the picture above, but I'll try my best to do him proud. Don't worry, I'll keep my shirt on.

Ayuda me, Senor

Last night I had a little time to think. I took a look around, thankful that my children are safe and warm and happy. I remembered a holy man and what he once told me about prayer. In general, when you pray you try not to ask anything for yourself. He told me that when you pray for others you avoid specifics and ask for health and help. When you're finished you say thank you, for everything.

Jesus: The Missing Years - John Prine

I could do without the audience laughter in this version, but that's just probably because I'm crabby. What a great song.