Empires and People Goeth

Every ancient empire’s fallen.

The pharaohs all are dead…

Many monarchies, faded away,

Many kings have lost their head.

By the sword or sword of time,

All men will eventually fall,

We bleed away or we wither,

Time erodes, and it takes us all.

A few of my friends shared an era,

Before Jackie O’s Camelot…

Mansions were venues for parties,

Crude displays; what new money bought.

Oh how we weep and mourn

F. Scott’s Gatsby; his friends are gone…

The revelers moved their parties,

Under those flat marble slabs on the lawn.

Farewell Summer

I have my farewell letter written

To the man working the ferry ramp…

He chalked my tires, guided the masses,

Escorted kids home from summer camp.

I thanked the seals for their display,

Adding their whiskers to a fish’s boil,

I thanked the grey whale at my mailbox,

For elevating my routine toil.

I hope I mentioned my forgiveness,

For Otis canceling the San Juan’s sail;

Me begging for crutches on the Chuckanut hike,

Along the Burlington Northern Rail.

I snapped a photo on the way home;

The roiling jade green ferry’s wake…

Passing out through the Salton Sea Passage,

More fun than our bodies could take.

Buds to Bods/Kegs to Good Legs

All the town drunks have buff bodies,

They ride bikes to the bars twice a day,

Then walk to the bus stops every night

Since the state took their license away.

They dead lift all of their good friends

Passed out, face down on the floor…

Then high jump to get on the bar stools

In their quest for “Just one glass more”.

Their pushup routines begin each night,

Upon falling to the curb from the bus.

Their success, the result of taxpayers;

The fat, sober people like us.

Yes someone already commented on "Sober people like us"?
My Reply was, "Yeah, sometimes"!

Tumbling Towards Terminal

Diving in irrigation ditches,

Our sport’s vehicle?  Gravity…

Falling in rivers, warm pools and lakes,

Graceful cliff dives into the sea…

We seem to enjoy the pull of nature

Drawing us ever closer to earth…

Until we discover when older,

We’ve tumbled farther away since birth.

Nat and Laverne

It wasn’t just any Miami vacation,
It took a whole lifetime to earn…
Thirty-five years of Fuller Brush Sales,
And it’s off for Nat and Laverne.

A wardrobe of furs, plaid pants and sunglasses
All crammed in the Crown Victoria.
Last farewells to the snowstorms, grandkids and the house,
And all the Gentiles in Peoria.

Down memory lane they took Route 66,
Unaware that the world had changed.
The towns were all by-passed, the stores were all closed,
With millions of lives rearranged.

Dazed and bewildered, they searched for a motel
The kind with a vibrating bed.
Only to find a boarded-up house,
Near a sign that said "Dead end ahead".

Nat and Laverne were lost in America,
No one would see her furs now!
Just them and the Crown Victoria
With the exception of one lonely cow.

Laverne pinched her cheeks and smeared on some rouge,
You still must look good when lost.
She thought to herself they should have flown,
But hooey vey, such a cost.

They threw all the furs, make-up and sunglasses
Into a fast reverse.
Silent till now, Laverne started whining,
"Too much sitting makes cellulite worse"!

Nat thought about the last thirty-five years… Of constantly trying to please her,
Now lost in a country he no longer knew,
And certain he could not appease her.

He looked at the ghost town and thought of his life,
Oh, how he hated that job!
Thrown out and useless like Route 66
And Laverne wouldn’t like him to sob.

Back on the highway, Nat gathered up speed.
The speedometer said sixty-five.
He slowly reached down and pulled open the door,
The last time Laverne saw him alive.

She pinched on her cheeks and smeared on some rouge,
As the car neared an unkempt park.
"Jesus Christ, what gave him the right?"
As her lipstick rubbed off on tree bark.