There’s a sandbar that stretches 12 miles into a Great Lake, and if you walk far enough down that sandbar, approximately 8 miles, is where you will find a nude beach. It’s a paradise of nature…
I have seen the sky here filled with Monarchs by the thousands, for here is a migration point for things that fly, like monarchs and ladybugs and many types of birds. However, the migrations are later in the year, in September, and this story was under a much hotter sky.
I took a woman who never experienced this and was curious and after what could only be described as a perfect day of sun and nature, it was time to walk back into the real world where people wear clothes.
She was happy and beautiful and relaxed and free, and I even saw humor in her inability to stop staring at the other nude bodies. The sun began to set on a perfect day, and I suggested we go back.
There’s a sign in the sand that leaves no doubt that beyond this point lies civilization and where I put on my shorts.
A mile on and several strong suggestions to the point that it MIGHT be time to put some clothes back on went ignored. Several people gave glances her way and returned their eyes to the sand.
By the time we reached the parking lot, I had reached a boiling point, and this is where that relationship ended.
On the drive home, I ranted and pined.
“What the fuck were you thinking about!?”
“How do you find it necessary to turn a perfect day into me yelling and wondering if it’s safe for me to take you anywhere, because I don’t know what the fuck you’re going to do!?”

Later in therapy in an attempt to understand my rage, and her behavior my therapist said.
“You may owe her an apology… your anger is understandable however I suspect she didn’t want, what you described as a perfect day, to end.”
Dennis Mantin

A woman old enough to know better referred to the girl getting her coffee as “Einstein.”

After the woman left, the barista looked at her co-worker and said, “Can you believe that? She called me Einstein. ”

The co-worker said, “Like being rude?”

She answered, “Like yeah?!”

I don’t know who is more entertaining: millennials or the generation that raised them?

Dennis Mantin

The Democrats are all screaming…

Crying Democratic tears.

On YouTube, I’ve been streaming.

See the nation without peers.

Oh, come on now, I’m just funning.

Thinking about those yesteryears.

When those Cold Wars were all gunning.

And under desks, we hid all fears…

Well, I guess we’re afraid of something.

Me? It’s Dad bod getting plump.

Living forever is more than I can bring.

You? It sounds like Donald Trump.

.

Jack was a career criminal at a time when him and his associates lived by rules and codes…

He was north of 60 when I met him and he swore he wasn’t going back inside.

Jack told me, “Everybody thinks they can go through life and not live by any rules. I’m here to tell you that you’re going to have to live by at least 2 rules.

Everybody knows knows rule # 1; however, very few know rule # 2; and… Rule # 2 is never shit in your own nest.”

It’s been 40 years since I’ve seen Jack and I like to think he managed to stay true to his rules.

They held on with great fury.

Leaving marks of letting go.

And the blood it stained: don’t worry.

All scars heal, don’t you know?

They were courting with disaster.

Then again, was nothing new.

On the street, he walked right past her.

There were smiles. Resentments grew.

They got old and lost all memories.

In the end, they up and died.

They were buried by their enemies.

And in their eulogies, they all lied.

There is color in the flowers.

And moisture in the rain.

The rocks are hard and heavy.

And the soil holds all pain.

I’ve been dancing in the meadows.

I don’t dare to stay too long.

And only under darkened skies.

Where the thunder plays my song.

No more confab with the foolish.

Or the prideful, boastful voice.

I take it to the world at large.

And pretend I have a choice.

Sometimes, I miss delusions.

In the busy city streets.

And the chaos and confusions.

But not the phones and texts and tweets.

Flying low under the radar.

Anonymity still a thing.

Your obsessions here are going far.

No comfort do they bring.

You were singing in the spotlight.

To applause and some disdain.

When I was writing in the darkness.

In contemplation of your pain.

I remember how you suffered.

All the horror, that big brain.

Waves that crashed are now outnumbered.

The counting stops or goes insane.

I’m not saying I have the answers.

To finally bring you peace of mind.

Just float back down to earth, old friend.

You’ve done well, leave that behind.

The opportunity to know certain people who are a pleasure to be with doesn’t happen often, and when it happens, it is beyond the beyonds. However, it does happen, and when it does…

We must learn to say goodbye.

Perhaps without all those tears and blubbering!

Just concentrate on what a pleasure it was and is to be in the presence of THIS!

She has never seen snow before…

Says, “It’s nice!” She smiles.

Aa lovely as anyone I’ve met.

“It’s so clean!”

I let her have her moment and smile.

My truth is dirty and cold.