The sun returned with a vengeance.

The cold air was hanging on.

The headmaster took attendance.

Appeared that one of us was gone.

Some prayed for her safe passage.

Some cried for her return.

There was no meaning or no message.

Just a look of harsh concern.

There was a shuffle in the hallway.

And some movement at the door.

She said, “I’m late, but I’m ok.”

And she’s not missing anymore.

I don’t know why my baby loves clowns.
Whose painted on tears never fall down.
I don’t know what she sees in their eyes
Perhaps the line between horror/surprise…

I don’t know why my baby can’t sing.
Why carnival music isn’t her thing.
It fills my head when I’m at the fair.
Searching for clues in clowns everywhere.

I don’t know why she screams at night.
I hope it’s not why she holds me so tight.
Because I’m the type I’m weak for love.
Carnival music I rise above.

Is it the pain or is it the tears?
For some carnival crime from yesteryears.
Maybe it’s you, maybe I’ll never know.
Maybe it’s me, baby let go.

(chorus)

Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the kings horses and all the kings men.
Tried and they tried but she fell down again.

Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
She went to her shrink ended up at the mall.
Humpty Dumpty wanted it all.

Dennis Mantin

I’ve been patient with understanding…

And all things that I don’t know.

They piled up and not withstanding…

Except those marks from letting go.

We were holding onto dear life.

Confused like children in a war.

Lack the words for clear expression.

Peace and love were not in store.

There is something in the shadows.

Dare take a look? Oh, just a peek!

There’s something Holy in the answers.

When the strong protects the weak.

Dennis Mantin

The savages we descended from; we pretend they weren’t us…

We think we are different.

This thing we call civility is questionable, at least.

Why are we so offended at our heritage?

Look how far we’ve grown.

“How tall we are, we’ve learned so much!”

Why the shame? Why pretend?

Given what they were dealing with, I can’t say that I’d have done anything better or different…

I watched her rise and fall over our sleepy little town. That dead rock in the sky, that shines over us all… Who knows the secrets here? Where? Where everyone pretends that nothing happens.

The warm salt waters of the Gulf Stream flow north from Mexico, along the eastern continental shelf, passed Cape Breton and beyond. Cold arctic air sweeps down over frozen tundra and bristles raised hairs on hunched backs, along Labrador and into the Northumberland Strait. Where these 2 meet is a spit of land that rises out of the Atlantic, just north of New York City, and is formerly known as New Scotland. It’s because of this; the north winds and the south currents that the conversations here are usually always about the weather…

To an outsider, it would appear as if nothing else goes on here but the weather. However, appearances are deceiving. Nothing is as it seems…

Reminds me of the old joke… A man from the city asks a fisherman, “What do you do around here for excitement.”

The fisherman smiles, ” In the summertime we fish and we fuck. In the winter, we don’t fish. “

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’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…

Winter is broken here…

The air is warm now.

People are shedding wool and jackets and blankets and sleeping bags.

Winter is not all that’s broken here…

I walk on the shady side still because I like the cool. On the streetcar, a man already seated says,

“I wouldn’t sit there. Someone pissed on the floor; I think.”

I responded, “I guess the TTC needs to be installing toilets now?”

“It’s tough times…”

“Indeed.”

I pick up my fruit at the local market and get back on the streetcar. Someone verbally attacks someone getting on the car; someone else goes face to face bumming change. More harsh refusals.

Yesterday at the drugstore someone yelled my way, “You have money to shop, but you don’t have money to help the homeless?

Am I missing something?

They get lost in the city…

You see them mumbling; usually to themselves. They have lost everyone. None are left to listen to the complaints! The lost are the lonely…

The despair is written in the lines of their faces. Their addiction is in their voices. “Can ya spare some change?”

My guess is that they didn’t fit in where they came from either. Driven from the nest by the stronger siblings.

So seldom do they hear any words of encouragement. Maybe never…

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!