I was lonely without a woman.

I was tired but couldn’t sleep.

I got into counting blessings.

I kept it simple; then got deep.

There’s a silence in the knowledge.

That God has got this planned.

Sometimes, I just shake my head.

Much I do not understand.

Dennis Mantin

I have been in this city for more than 35 years. I wanted a chance, and I got that. Leaving will not be emotional as I have had enough. It’s not just this city. I imagine all large populated areas would have a similar response.

“In 2 years, I will be so far from here that it will cost 50 dollars just to mail me a postcard.”

I will be going east to an inland sea island in the hills. The phone will be shut off, and I suspect that my best friend besides my daughter will be a dog or 2 and maybe a cat.

In my mind, I have already left. I will write about my experiences here until I die…

She said, “You are very rude!”

Her response seemed unusually emotional. I suspected something else was going on… something closer to home. My questions and answers triggered her!

I didn’t care, which was rude. Honesty is not a welcomed attribute, I am finding. I am pretty much shutting down conversations and communications that aren’t about the weather.

I used to criticize the older ones for only talking about the weather. Now I get it!

I’ve been searching for the reason.

But I was parked on Sheppard Street.

There was nothing new that season.

Just the woke and no new beat.

There was screaming amidst the madness.

A steel jacket filled the hole.

Then, a shot broke up the sadness.

All that stress had took a toll.

The cleaner is working overtime.

The unions gave the nod.

We all know it’s Easter somewhere.

Not much talk of him or God.

I’ve been listening to the masses.

They be trying to bring me down.

I’ve been taking master classes.

Ever since the blues dropped into town.

They are talking about oppression.

Like, it’s shiny and brand new.

So much horror in that lesson.

That ironic cake to chew.

They are raging, eyes are blurry.

Tears they fall like April rain.

Going nowhere in such a hurry.

Like they just discovered pain.

I’ve been looking for a chorus. That won’t break us into songs. Maybe something just to bore us. Take our rights back from the wrongs…

They said that you were crazy. I didn’t listen; you understand?

The offer had a time stamp. Peace of mind was all I planned.

I’ve been mining at the quarry. There’s mud upon the gold.

Just give some time. I wash up well. You aren’t much for clean and fold.

You never called me lazy. I’m not buying cursed or damned.

You are blaming someone for your pain. I was asked to take the stand.

Just so simple is the rule here. Don’t be nice. Get left behind.

I had to leave you screaming. You are cruel and quite unkind.

In the wise words of our daughter. It’s not that we do not care.

The peace that money brought her. Not enough! Mom couldn’t share.

I was looking for a lover.

Who could love me without guilt.

It started out so hopeful.

But shame had that house built.

I couldn’t get my feet set.

My eyes were never dry.

I gave it all. I’m standing tall.

No who or when or why.

I was listening or reading or in study or something, when someone wrote or said or stated: “I can’t remember who I’m talking to…”

And everything in that moment for me clicked.

From my earliest memories, I couldn’t get the attention of those I wanted… so I stopped trying.

In parenthood, I have met someone, my daughter, who always wants my attention. This is the beauty of parenthood. This is beyond golden. Maybe I will never say, “I can’t remember who I’m talking to?”

I have never understood the advantages of being an unpublished writer. I always felt at some level… a failure.

I never looked at writing as a job but more of a need. I have, though, always wanted to be published. However, I never put much effort in that direction.

The advantage has to do with retirement. Many people can’t deal with being retired. They say they can, but for many its a struggle.

I will write. I will tell story.

I am weeks away from getting my first novel published at Friesen Press entitled LOOK THEM IN THE EYES.

I remembered everything dramatic until I didn’t. I let that shit go, which is a monumental gift.

However, I  remember certain individuals from my childhood who, at the time, I thought were unreasonably cruel. Now I realize they were just human. Nothing more or less. So, to those people that I criticized on the eastcoast!,

“All Apologies!”