All those important things that I used to focus on…

Sports scores.

Getting high.

The drunken dances where I didn’t dance.

The partying!

Was it all a waste of time?

Certainly not!

All part of the journey…

When I was a boy I was too needy. No doubt a byproduct of ‘Growing up’ without a father.

I have long ago forgiven myself for this flaw and the lack of awareness I processed at that time.

I put far too much emphasis on friends and how difficult I must have made it for them to be nice. It was wrong to ask that much.

None of them are here now to see how things have changed. Sometimes I don’t even think of them.

It’s occurred to me that you don’t dance with me, the way you used to do.

There is the morning and a coffee and a there’s a silence that’s not new.

There’s a distance and some boundaries, the best that cash can buy.

No, it didn’t have to be like this and I know you’ve wondered why.

The lawyers are our best friends, they smile, nod now as we talk.

My bank accounts quite empty now, eyes are fixed upon the clock.

I’m not worried about losing, nothing good will get away.

I spoke while we were dancing; Told you, “The fiddlers gotsta pay!”

The snow fell down this morning.

I don’t want to go outside.

These masks they hold a warning.

No more smiles left to hide.

There is stillness in this quiet.

Like this air that gives a chill.

Nothing left to guide or pilot.

All this change and time to kill.

I fear not all will make it.

There’s a bet on me and you.

Winter can bend or break it.

Thoughts of Spring to get us through.

There’s this stain on things around here… From all the bad things that happened.

No one ever talks about anything. It’s like nothing ever happened.

The silence makes it so. No victims; no crime; no criminals.

I’ve been all of these things. First the stained; and then the stainer.

However I have not chosen silence. Shame has never solved anything.

I see a man who lives in shadows. Hides his face in his hands. Can’t hide his shame.

I saw him down at the river once. He was busy in the bushes, burying the blame.

He was younger and not as quiet. Too many questions left him unsure.

But life and love have had their ways and deception gave him cure.

There’s a beauty in his wanting. There’s a trust just out of frame.

The drugs are his sentence now and the drinking hides her name.

There are secrets in the shadows.

There is justice in the air.

There are victims who know nothing.

Talking about life’s not fair.

There are secrets in the shadows.

There is mystery in the wind.

There’s a stillness in that smile.

And the breaks just past the bend.

All over but the dying.

I can hear a distant roar.

I’ve resigned my fears of flying.

Oh the mysteries! Why? What for?

All too clever for the answers.

We keep searching for more clues.

Dodging earthquakes, fame and cancers.

There is meaning in ‘The Blue’s.’

Never felt like I was welcomed.

I was strange and stranger still.

Like a begger at the banquet feast.

I just couldn’t get my fill.

I was a boy when people asked me…

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

‘Unafraid.’ I thought.

“I don’t know.” I answered.

I just wanted people to stop hitting me. I just didn’t want to be afraid all the time.

I grew tall and people asked me.

“Why are you so angry?”

“Why do you drink so much?”

“I don’t know. ” I lied.

I am 58 years old and I am a father and I know what I want. To teach her and show her love and support her and be her friend… and paint and make films.

“I will tell story.”

Said I.

Dennis Mantin

A rich man drives a taxi.

A poor man drives a Ford.

But my old man

Goes down the street

With four wheels on a board.

MARGARET MANTIN