Feeding The Habit

"I will go in this Way, Oh but I will find my own way out." -Dave Matthews

Sunday, November 28, 2004

Sunday Thoughts

You were all that was there
while under the moon's gaze
I dream and real
in a field full of clouds low hung
and evening
as it crept across sky.

I dance on the water with you
and drown slowly
in the folds of your mouth.

An owl sweeps on a mouse
in the distance
and there in the branches,
in the full tuft of that bush,
I take it's place. I hunt
for the small creature
that screams
in the center of you.

Sunday, November 21, 2004

Sunday Thoughts

The mind dries up with an old creek, but I'll give a penny or two for a thought comming from you. My head is like a combine on an old farm: grinding and grinding over the same corn. I like to eat it still, with butter.


She thought, What the world needs is to be more wild, and took off her clothes.

She looked around at the clutter. It sat there too often. For some years, months at a time.

Walking over to the door, she glared out the peep-hole, then locked it, firmly.

She went into the bathroom and stepped into the tub.
The curtain was left open.

Squatting down, she peed. It was all that she needed, and everything she had hoped it would be.

Monday, November 15, 2004

It's not a perfect world

Today was a chicken mystery wrap day. These are the days where time for food is short and you eat at the place called a Kiosk. I don't know what this word means, but somehow it is inseparably linked with undesirable food. Or perhaps just undesirable chicken wraps, which is always the only item on the menu.

I think because they are called wraps, some confusion has been created causing the head chef to feel they should be somewhat like presents, and for that reason, they are made to contain a surprise; which generally means something that doesn't belong.

Worse, there is no option. Only one kind of wrap a day is made. The first wrap I had the pleasure of sinking my teeth into was the Caesar Chicken Wrap. Now, a random anyone, such as myself, would suspect this wrap might contain lettuce, chicken, and ranch mixed with anchovy paste. Sort of like a Caesar Chicken Salad. But to my delight (surprise!), or rather, the lack of it, it also held within the confines of its many folds, whole slices of green apples, Sour green apples, to be exact.

In case you were wondering, this is not considered tasty when placed in the mouth along with chicken and anchovy paste. The same could be said for the pecans found in today's Santa Fe Chicken wrap. At least I was not caught off guard. My friend from Canada tells me this unpleasantry happens because women make them. The women, I am told, like to eat them, and then have something to complain about, and laugh about when others are buying them, because they know they are gross.

But my friend from Canada also says aboot, so I am not so sure how much credit to give them.

I ordered a coffee to offset the disgust I knew I would experience from the chicken a la crap wrap. As a treat, I get what my friend calls not coffee. A flavored latte. She says Americans don't drink real coffee. She says it is a desert. But it is coffee, as best I can tell, with a lot of steamed milk and sweetener added for kicks. And I watched my friend get a coffee once. She ordered it with four creams and five sugars, which really didn't seem all that different than a flavored latte. But I let it slide. I like to drink my coffee black as a rule anyway.

Tim Horton's is the fancy chain for coffee where my friend lives. They affectionately call it "Timmie's" and go there often getting random doses of sugar and cream. They do not sell out though and add, god forbid, a flavor. I tell my friend that Starbucks is the popular place around here, but that I have never once felt compelled to call it "Buckie's". I have never ordered a chicken wrap from them either, and really, I think that is probably a good thing.

Sunday, November 14, 2004

Sunday Thoughts

It is, for some, at some times, a need
to have pause. They can feel it in breaths
and in strides of day in and out again over
the whole face of this life. Voices
from inside saying: You are, you need
this only, and that also, too.

Sunday, November 07, 2004

Sunday Thoughts

Goodbye hangs even over hello
and it does like a fog on certain days.

I would crawl down, if I could
into a fetal heart and sit there
or lay, maybe outstretch, into soft songs

of whatever might be God, whatever
might be good. Would you with me

feel the warm breath of the desert sand?

Friday, November 05, 2004

One evening

Spencer was running and stumbling, full ahead, his heart racing.
"I'm givin 'er all she got Cappin!" His mind echoed. It was always full of tv quotes, always skipping frantically around, as if it were unstable.
"Free at last, free at last, Thank God I'm free at last," it now thought.
It was like Spencer had no control over what went into and out of it. It all just raced past him. But all that mattered was his tunneling under the outer fence had finally been a sucess! His back was scraped and would likely scar, but this was joy, he didn't care. If only he could get each leg to work properly and together he would be there in no time!
It was almost upon him!
And he heard the shouts from behind like alarms going off in his head, but he had to push on, he had to run.
It was almost there, almost there, he could smell it, had been smelling it for days, years even, and there was the ditch! Now the smell, the smell?
Where, Where, Where? There! There!

Spencer squatted and took a big shit on the spot.
The perfect spot.
The only spot that needed it.

It was everything he had hoped, just like he had dreamed.
He wanted to roll over in it, to be bathed, cleansed and free.
But there were the voices that had been behind him.
They were closer now, almost there, and still yelling and crying and calling.
"You feel lucky punk? Well do ya?" he heard.
He tried to change the channels.
He should give up, he knew, and give in, just let it go.
But there was the big green bin not twenty feet away, and another one twenty feet after that, and then more, all along the road, all just there and the smells, oh, the smells, he darted off, just missing the grasp of two hands, the two hands that wanted to carry him home, Oh, but he could already feel the urge lifting his leg!
He darted between pairs of legs, the green bin moments away!