Against the Grain

Patriotic fervor takes many roads these days. Now there is a new highway entrance for the disgruntled and the angry in America. They are the new-and-allegedly-improved original tea-party patriots of America’s legendary Boston Tea Party.

If there is a bonding message among the Tea Party followers, it is simply that they are not being heard by their politicians.

And their messages are seamless streams of rage that have become the sound-bites of this new generation of discontented: “it’s up to the people to take back the government”; “we rule the government”; “people are fed up with the government that won’t listen to them anymore”; “government crap”; “I just want my government back”; “people should keep as much of their own taxes as possible”; “government should stay out of the car and banking business”; “pull the plug on Wall Street”; “screaming at my tv”; “I had to do something out of frustration”; “they don’t have a clue.” Read More

I thought about love once
And then decided to
See a movie instead.

I thought about love again
Just yesterday as the
Inflated clouds dragged
Themselves through
The brush of blue sky
Sealing into paper-
Wrapping silence
One eager plane with its
Tired cargo of travelers.

And today, well,
I cannot tell a lie.
I’m thinking about love
In the middle of dinner
Following the odor of
Curry and brown rice,
And steam that rises
From my cold,
Uneventful plate.

Showing up on time
Is the easy part.

The dashboard of
My rented car
Free of dust,
Wax-clean,
Vacuumed carpets
And a lemon smelling
Tag dangling from
The rear view mirror.

One more look
In the sun-visor
Mirror, an angled glance
At the straggly sideburns.

Fly firmly zipped.

Spitting on my closed
Index fingers,
I drag them along
The creases of
My black pants.

I pull out a hanky,
And shoe-shine the tips
Of my eager shoes.

Gently tugging
The bottom of my red tie,
I firmly wrestle
With the knot
To shield the
Top button from
Strangers looking
For flaws.

I open my sport coat,
Lowering my head
Into the dark corners
Of both arm pits.

I turn off the
Impatient ignition,
Open the door,
And look up at
The scoop of a moon
Glancing down at
Familiarity.