It ends just before 2 a.m. Friday night/Saturday morning with a cab ride home with a stranger…

Just experiencing the moments!

I met Mich M, who introduced me to ‘Ignatius ‘ and ‘The Confederacy of Dunces.’ Mich has read it 6 times…

Delores was great to work for and tragedy struck her family and she left early…

I met Scoot and Jennifer and made friends and in the end it was delightful: and Gregory the driver of this cab is no longer a stranger and I’ve made it home safely.

But not John Kennedy Toole…

They recognized his brilliance to late for him.

Dennis Mantin

The tents took up the green space… Needles decorate the lawn.

The cops ignore the protests… Somethings gotta give that’s gone.

The adults will make hard choices… Children going to show the ways

There’s a future I fear will show us all. These were the good old days.

We were driving somewhere and she said.

“Why would vampires have a bad reaction to garlic!? I mean it makes zero sense. “

“You’re the first person I’ve heard say that however you do make a good point I think… you do know there’s only one way to kill a vampire right?”

“Yes. A stake through the heart… but who wouldn’t die from that?”

“Again a great point. “

The day to day grind takes its toll and sometimes it is wise to step back just to grasp some perspective of where we are and where we’ve been…

We are safe.

The drama is all background noise.

We’ve done well under trying circumstances my love 💓 Well done 👏

Time for a vacation!

I’ve been living in the Alley.

My best friend is a cat.

There is nothing in the cupboard.

No one is getting fat.

There are moments of sheer terror.

Followed by a deathly calm.

Not much happens in the Alley.

The nights are cool and long.

The Sun broke through the clouds at dawn, but it didn’t stop the rain.

I got so damned excited that I stared and looked again.

I thought about the troubled; and the hardships life can bring.

And these valley of the blind ones, where the one eyed man is king.

A Communications Breakdown…

Words getting harder to discern.

Me, I tend to mumble.

And listening I won’t learn.

The page was blank.

Began to write.

To spit the truth.

Or lie in spite.

The page was clean.

Had to decide.

I never know.

I must confide.

It’s Sunday in the Barrio.

Tis is also Sunday here.

The cobwebs are all shook loose.

Except where memory is not clear.

The streets are filled with silence.

They still dreaming in their head.

There’s nothing but the fear to feed.

About what was and wasn’t said.

I tried to love, my needs are small.

Any less they’d be none at all.

Tried and failed to be that tall.

Staying low, not so far to fall.