Springfield
My Story

I remember
Sitting on my Granny's back porch
Waiting for the hummingbirds to come
And taste the red syrup from the fake plastic flowers
Their buzz vibrating through my skin
Their quickness frightening me

Watching the last desperate efforts
Of ticks so full of beagle blood they could burst
Placed in a jar full of dead ticks and gasoline
Struggling to reach the surface
Looking awkward with their
Swollen bodies of stolen blood

Wondering at the waste
Of so many apples and plums
Rotting into the ground
Where they've fallen from straining branches
Each their own little half hump
Partially buried in the grass

Playfully rustling the Pompous grass
Disturbing the meals of so many grasshoppers
Watching them bounce off like sparklers
To hide in the dark caves
Formed where the grass folds cover
Toward the earth

Waving wildly and yelling
Through the car windows
At the joined figures standing on the porch
As they waved back with the reliability of tradition
While the setting sun cast long shadows
On our drive back home
Fron Springfield

Maybe 2 a.m. in Some Deserted Laundromat

She had a tired face
A sad, lonely look in her eyes
Not the look of someone alone
But one of a woman who lost her lust for life
Long ago
Maybe 2 a.m. in some deserted laudromat

Now she trudges through life
Like mud is stuck in clumps to her shoes
And the wrinkles around her eyes
That make her look years older than she is
Come from nights of heartache
And not careless laughter

A Quiet House

When all the young have left
And nothing's left but an empty nest
Children's laughter and playful roars
Have been replaced by creaking floors
Ivy has covered the chimney stack
Weeds, cracks and windows black
A ghostly garden, long untended
Rows of fallen fences never mended
Winds howl in rickety windows
On nights the north wind blows
Winter birds visit empty feeders
Early spring, the cold still lingers
The lonely scampers of a mouse
Echo sadly in a quiet house

Small World

As I open up the cardboard box
I breath in the smell of clean leather
The feel and look of new shoes
With their white un-frayed laces
Always gives me a feeling of warmth
Like getting a fresh start
This pair was made in Korea
Stitched by a woman I don't know
Her name, Xiao Li Yung,
Will never roll across my lips

In September of 1950
My grandfather Eugene Clark
Led a group of CIA
And military operatives
On a reconnaissance mission
Of the Inchon Bay
They, with the help of some locals
Successfully mapped the coastline
Paving the way for the invasion
Of North Korea

Xiao Li Yung
Never knew her grandfather, Kim Se Yung
He had lived his whole life
In a small village on the Inchon Bay
He never met my grandfather
But after the CIA operation
Was discovered by the North Koreans
They rounded up fifty of the locals
In the village that helped Clark
Marched them out into the street
And executed them

They shot Kim Se Yung in the face

Security

As we lie there in bed
I slowly become aware
Of a dull, slow rattle
Not a monotonous or rhythmic rattle
But an occasional, irritating one

The better half of my married life
Asks if I know what it is
I explain that the window
Is being handled by the wind,
That I had to take the lock off
While I painted it -
I feel her tense up

For a moment I consider
Telling her that the lock never
Actually provided any real security,
That the window is made of glass
For that matter so is the front door
That those locks never kept
Anyone out, except the honest people

But then I realize that sense,
That feeling of security,
Is the only real security
That was ever there
And if I tell her
Whether I put the lock
Back on or not,
That security
Is gone

Teenage Angst

Who could forget that night
We stole all those radios
Out of the cars in Bill's junkyard.
Dennis was about halfway
Through tearing the one out
Of that '88 conversion van
When we heard the dogs barking,
And they were coming for us.
Who knows where they were before
But right then none of us really cared.
We were just assholes and elbows
Scampering and scraping
Back across the chain link fence
With arms full of radios
And faces full of smiles.

Peace

The lawn chair is quite full
An odd chair, aluminum framed
With it's green and yellow nylon straps
Holds the grandest of all mothers
Under the shade of unearthly sunflowers
She sits and surveys her children's children
Playing games in the yard she made
Small beads of sweat on her forehead
There so many times before
For reasons of toil and labor
Are now from age and heat and
Hardly noticed at all by an old woman
In a large straw hat who's knowing smile
Rivals the warmth of the sun

18 years

After eighteen years together...

It seems like only yesterday,
Funny how time does that
We met on that Saturday night.
There was a chill in the air,
Unusual for that time of year
So you cuddled up next to me.
There was electricity in my stomach.

It seems like only yesterday,
Time goes by so fast
We were picking shower curtain rings
And talking about how we argued
About the silliest things.
We would always make up and make love.
Afterward the world would be so right.

It seems like only yesterday,
Years now seem like days
Robert didn't do his homework,
Again, and lied to the teacher and...
When he was 8 months old
He wasn't sleeping through the night
Somehow I knew even then.

It seems like only yesterday,
Funny the things you remember
Your father had his first heart attack
The day after our tenth anniversary.
Later the next year at his funeral,
You pressed up next to me, afterward
You wept till you fell asleep.

It seems like only yesterday,
Our lives are but a vaporous mist
When I asked you what was wrong
You took an unusually long time
Before replying with the usual "nothing"
Then snapping at me about something
That didn't really matter, then or now.

It seems like only yesterday,
And at the same time forever ago
That things were as good as gold
Between me and you; you and me
Could not have been any happier.
Now I look in your hollow eyes
Seeing nothing but sadness and resentment.

It seems like only yesterday,
But the memory is often deceitful
When you left me for what’s his name
And our children hated us both for it.
Hard to believe it’s been eighteen years
Since you left me, and I’ve been full of
Sadness and resentment ever since,

After eighteen years apart…

Lawn Chair Guard

A saboteur, of sorts
Waits just below the surface,
Below the evenly cut blades of grass,
Below the mulched flower beds
And bordered plants.

Even now, as you survey
Your past weekend's work
There lurks, just out of sight
A menacing presence about to erupt,
To suddenly spring into being.

An army of lions,
Dandy though they may be,
Stands poised and ready for action.
Their legions of rank and file
In endless formations

Waiting for the command
Which the rain and sun will give
To go forward and take back what is theirs
To occupy the field of battle
To bring beauty back

To what the enemy has destroyed

When the Flags have Faded

"The only thing necessary for the triumph
of evil is for good men to do nothing." -Edmund Burke

When the flags raised out of pride
Have faded from the sun and time
When the call to arms has faded
With the last faint echoes of war
Will you still stand up and count?

When news from the front falls
To the second page of the paper
And the blood of both friend and foe
Has colored the lands of the earth
Will you draw a sword and fill the gap?

When bumper stickers have peeled
From time and years of traffic
And the patriotic fervor has yielded
To the everyday struggles of life
Will you remember the fallen heroes?

When generations look back ages hence
And rest assured they certainly will
Will they see you as a patriot
When those flags you now wave have faded?

Not Found Here

The night is empty
Save for the haze hugging the street lights
And the sound of my feet
As they search for life's answers
On this lonely city street