Etienne
Waiting for Etienne
It is not like him to be late
not even fashionably
I wonder where he is
He may have forgotten the time
He has in the past
turned by a sweet for a little dinner.
We regularly meet here in the park
and share a bench
our private café
in the early evening
the
lamps just turning on
Fireflies
Raining above our umbrellas
snow falling shadowing the lamps
as we talk
about this and that
our restaurant reviews books we are
reading neighborhood gossip
And other things
catching up with each other’s lives
one story one at a time
Sharing our philosophies of Life
Vladimir and Estragon
He was to bring our hot coffee
dark and strong
A little sugar in mine
a little cream in his
He still has not arrived
No way to contact him
Estragon waiting for Godot
but the boy is lazy and does not show
I must leave our bench
twilight has fled
Hoping he had forgotten
the day the hour
Hoping he is dining
in a small quiet restaurant
being charming and gregarious
Hoping I will see him soon
And hear the tale (true or fanciful) of
tonight
Godot always says he Is not coming
Etienne never does
Three Churches
Standing white, steepled, tall chimneys
On rolling high plains
Empty of people feeling betrayed
Ghosts
Void of reverence and faith
Congregations fled them
Scattering to survive
From a land bare of hope
Just a natural certainty
The land left to its own betrayal
Dust, wind, dry winters
Three churches
Catholic, Lutheran, Baptist
Different shades of belief
They could not keep faith from
failing
In
a land that was faithless to them.
ANGST
Don’t write me your angst
Sitting in an alcove in a one bedroom
apartment
In some suburb in California.
Write me your angst
Watching the sun rise from the ocean
In the Florida Keyes
In May, before the tropical heat sets in.
Write me your angst
Camping in the shadow
Of the mountains in the Virginias
In early fall, as Nature’s cloak changes.
Write me your angst
Driving the back roads
Among the corn fields of Iowa
In August before the harvest.
Write me your angst
Drinking a cold can of beer
Outside a small Wyoming town
Watching the stars wheel by in the heat of
Summer.
Write me your angst
Driving across the salt flats
In Utah at four in the morning
In June, Venus high in the sky.
Write me your angst
Flying down the Interstate on a motorcycle
Through the flat lands of west Texas
In the dry and dusty fall.
Don’t write me your angst of being alive
Write me your memories of being alive.
Ha'penny
It was there in a beat up old paper cigar
box
Among other foreign coins of little value
A worthless dull worn bronze ha’penny
Portrait of the king when struck
The tales it must have to tell
Being found in a cigar box at an estate
sale
In a country an ocean away
In a faster time.
How many pockets has it been in
Hidden at the bottom of a purse's dark
cloth
With pence, a small kerchief and small
other unimportant things
Lost and found
A talisman for an unfortunate chimney
sweep
Given to him by his youngest daughter
Who found it in the street playing
A wish in Trevi Fountain for luck and love
by a young newlywed couple
On a quick romantic honeymoon to Rome
Sailing on the Canard line out of Bristol
Pocket change for a second class steward
On his first trip out
A souvenir for a young boy's treacherous
pirate treasure
Waving a fearsome Peter Pan sword
Practicing for a duel with the prince of
pirates
Just a curio for my collection of mundane
foreign money
Chinese one yuan coin, Canadian beaver
nickel, Mexican ten pesos coin.
The coin will come to someone
With an observant eye
And curiosity
The
fables it will tell
Secretly to the curious and imaginative
Of a slower pace in another era.
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