We dined on tea and oranges.

On the sand down by the sea.

There were possible storm warnings.

That escaped both you and me.

The dingy left the harbor.

The sail snapped by noon.

The winds grew dark and heavy.

Under far too soon, typhoon.

They’ll be no more tea and oranges.

Or walks down at the park.

The dreamers dream is heavy now.

And faint hopes are growing dark.

The voices they were moving.

On the water and in the air.

In her head was far from soothing.

And your name was everywhere.

She was holding onto sanity.

By a needle and a thread.

Her thoughts? Not worth a mention.

Except some mumbled words were said.

Something  happened somewhere.

Was a child, and then she grew.

Lived in the pain of “that’s not fair.”

Then she set her eyes on you.

In the gravity of her attention.

You were savior on white horse.

For her, not worth a mention.

You just failed… of course. Of course.

All those tears, ‘not worth a mention.’

Because you know she has to cry.

Now that I have your full attention…

You can stay or wave bye-bye.

“Jesus wept, and well, he might!”

I used to hear that intermittently when I was growing up from some exasperated human or poor soul no longer with us…

How they suffered with my youthful ignorance…

I see the others and their painful separations from family and marriage, and I see myself and my desire to be alone because in solitude is the only place I don’t feel criticized…

Mad Willie is in Miami, and he tells me that his children blame him and our generation for everything gone wrong in this world and that I am just going to have to learn how to smile and say nothing…

I have never had a successful relationship with anyone anywhere. I feel so very human and average in this regard…

Really, though, how does one measure success in the relationship realms?

I see something sinking here.

Drifting… gone away.

Sinking to that bottom there.

No more light of  day…

Lately, I’ve been drinking here.

I’ve had so much to say.

There’s been all this thinking there.

I have to turn to look away.

It’s just these dreams. That I’m thinking of.

Oh, it’s not what it seems. I don’t believe in love.

Standing here at skies edge there.

With nothing but today.

Walking there on that ledge here.

Don’t you look the other way!!

Some days I just get things right here.

When I hear the  song you play.

Moves me to where I can see you there.

And not look the other way.

You move me… You do.

You move me, you do.

Its just those dreams, that I’m thinking of.

Oh, it’s not what it seems. I don’t believe in love.

I’d been searching for the answers… When finally she came along.

Preforming miracles, curing cancers. Giving music to the song.

She taught and gave directions. Even when I didn’t ask.

She let me know my fortune. In her sunshine I could bask.

She showed me all my foibles. And how little I evolved.

I felt criminally unworthy, so I left her. Mystery solved.

The bitter cold has lifted, the snowflakes melted wet.

The winds are more forgiving, we are huddled with feet set.

On ground as hard as clay now, under sky as white as bone.

We are humbled and forgiven, yet we feel so all alone.

Maybe it’s just the season, it might be something more.

We are waiting on deliverance, in that distance there’s a roar.

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.

Cold and dreary May, in Borden morning.

“In a thousand years, no one will care.”

However, here in the next 20 minutes.

“In life and death, nothing is fair.”

Warplanes gather rust in memories.

Shakey hand on tumblers ice.

The Misses, she is entertaining.

“Lines are blurred here. Don’t think twice.”

They are marching. May Borden morning.

“In a thousand years, no one will care.”

Here in the next minutes and hours.

In death and life, there’s little fair.

There’s a poet here driving transport.

He writes and deals now with their pain

We are filming clowns and nightmares.

Marching partners down Lovers Lane.

On a May cold Tuesday morning.

“In a thousand years, no one will care.

I’m stuck here thinking about my babies.

In life and death, there is little fair.

Only once in my life have I gone to a fortune teller… It was in Vancouver in 1985 which means I was 26.

The Fortune Teller was an Asian man not more than a decade older than me and didn’t offer one piece of fortune telling prophecy.

Instead, what I remember was he told me to take care of myself, take care of my teeth, go to a dentist, eat fruits and vegetables, meditate, get proper rest and things of this nature.

All of it good advice however at the time I felt ripped off because I was expecting something different.

In hindsight what he was telling me was, “Don’t be afraid to invest in yourself… Which is about the best advice I’ve ever received.