homecoming and white bucks

 

 

Yesterday’s

purple pencils oozing through

the cracks of the hardened sap of solitude.

 

The musty, musky,

brick-brown doily of

patiently aged ‘bin there forever’

paperboy’s belt.

The gurgling, bubbling

coffee perk, ah and then

the brown drip.

 

The graceful lint of lace

hanging from the ceiling

in the hammock of wit

which laughs to mock

and defy the absurdity of gravity.

The grass stained white bucks  

that walked in by themselves

and masquerade as coasters.

 

These are the friends

who share his morning Wheaties.

These are the comrades he seeks

when the whistle announces

the end of that eight-hour thing.

 

Driving home finds ballets on every corner.

Packed into his Packard

the journey becomes jelled

to the syntax of

strobing time and space. . . .

 

slipping the key into

the front door moat

the pencils relax, the edit is complete,

today’s narration leaks sleepily into

tomorrow.

 

3 comments

  1. I get a feeling of comfortable routine and it seems to me that the narrator has just finished working a night shift. He heads home to his morning Wheaties. The lines describing his arrival at home remind me of a joke my wife and I have: “Raise the drawbridge and release the moat monsters.” Well written.

    Like

  2. Hi Craig

    Such carefully designed detail and mood set, allow the reader to journey with the character through his day. You highlight with wit and even some pathos, how routine shapes him before and after work. He comes in and the day’s story is done only for tomorrow’s story to begin leaking into his dreams. As always, you present your work with excellent writing, sensory details and an immediacy that takes the reader into the scene and its interaction with the speaker of the subject of the narration.

    Much enjoyed,
    Wendy

    Like

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