Category: family


Your words is Art
Your Art is Life
Your Life is Art

Very much a part of my being a writer
Your words move me
Like you’re just in front of me
Embracing my body like laughs
over coffee, or tears over tea

You put down the combinations
Of letters like there’s no tomorrow
Flowing like your blue lifeblood from your extraterrestrial quantum fingers
More potent than satellite TV
Are the images you let me see

And the feelings I sense
Intense as your tone
Makes me less alone
Not just a bag of bones
But a Being of Light
filled by you
A Being of Light
Together
We form the chandelier
Above the banquet of thoughts and dreams
Experiences jumping from page
That is our life
Shine on, shine on.

Now that I’m nearing my three year mark of writing online, I have to take into account the talented people who have shared on their blogs wonderful and thought-provoking poetry that feed the soul. I would like to show my appreciation for the minds and personalities behind the line, stanzas, and whole pieces that caught my heart and have somehow became crucial for my lighthearted mood state for the day.

It is your company and selfless contribution that made poetry alive in this part of cyberspace and made it really worthwhile to open the site and browse the freshest verbal artistry and expressiveness from you guys.

I don’t need to mention each and everyone of you, you know who you are. What’s important is that we are in constant connection and communication that defies time and space. Thank you for being there and sharing your beautiful thoughts!

Daughter mine, sunshine of my wounded life
This life has distanced you from me
Before the end is nigh may I see your sunny smile
To bring with me into the long nights of lightless miles
As cares and crones rape my body and mind.

Be the Valkyrie I raised you to be
Valiant in this vale of viciousness
Rise in triumph in the face of corporal tyranny
As they silence my speech
Silence your detractors with your cerebral eloquence
Shout them down if need be
Your mind is razor sharp considering
the Source, draw it from the
Scabbard with a
screaming metallic wheep
The very sight and sound of which turns men to sheep.

I am Old, my sword’s rusted and nicked
Time to carry the heraldry to field, my Daughter
I entrust this to no one, my sight’s dimming I whisper these words,
That fly with a blessing
May You prosper, your offspring happy
May they remember their grandfather silvery
I will watch over you, like the ancestors of old
Who never had a daughter like you, all told in Gold.

Tyranny of Marriage

That you ask me where I have been
That your eyes pierce through my clothes for sin
That with every argument you’re Cruella de Win
That you have that hidden Rodman grin.

What do you take me for?
What, an obedient whore?
What do you make of my mighty Thor?
What good deeds your Republican ignore?

Then all I can do is but sign
Then all these chains will shine
Then your busts will whine
Then I will to freedom divine.

~~~

Brave New Relationship

Here we are on a ship to nowhere
Just only with our asses and wits
And the strength of our souls’ patience
To survive on this desert continent.

You and I chose each other
Not only for the organ that fits
But we feel each others’ sentience
That we would age and be content.

I would never be afraid ever
No matter what tempest us hits
Time will give up in senescence
For forever is our intent.

Mood Music: Something About You/Level 42

Her clothes were dripping, torn, skin full of abrasions as she staggered from the river, into the afternoon, but into a twilit forest, trying to gain distance from her pursuer, whom she thought, was sure death if he caught with her. Kaycee knew without a doubt it was the escaped max-pri psycho convict Eleazar. In her horror he grabbed her from Middle Pryce School parking lot, shoved her into the backseat of the truck, and kept telling her, “Everything will be alright.” This tattooed, multi-pierced psycho calmly assured, as they traversed the highway and in her fright, she laid across the backseat, hoping the pealing brown leathers would engulf her, fearing his shockingly loving eyes.

She had reason to. For the past few days, coinciding with his escape and the subsequent state warning of a killer on the loose, a string of grisly killings have shocked Pryce and the county. First, her classmate Gayle, erstwhile prom queen, was found stuffed in a locker, in pieces. Next was the county fair pageant winner, Daisy, who went missing and in horrid angles, fit into a dumpster. The man, gristled, unkempt, mumbled these murders as he drove, enumerating, grating that he dreamt them, all too vividly. Kaycee could barely scream, crying as she crumpled herself more, and was beyond screaming, throat sore, voice hoarse. He confided he saw her crush Rex slashed and eviscerated, in front of his girlfriend and campus slut Melrose was dispatched similarly. Psychopaths were megalomaniacal, and his intimations were a prelude to glorying in gore, Kaycee numbly recalled.

He intoned, “You are the last. You are the last of the sacrifices.” He brandished an ornately carved knife, whispering, “This will end it all and bring you peace.”
“No!” Kaycee cried, and then suddenly, she remembered how Mona would be the next victim of the fiendish murders, sporting a pentagram tattoo on her wrist. When she’s this strawberry blond, the next looker in the list.

He stopped the truck over a bridge spanning a gurgling river, going over the smoking hood, from an overheating radiator. Gritting her teeth, she kicked open the door, bounded over the pylon, and fell headlong into the chill water. Instantly, she was swept away, going under and then above to gulp air, brushing debris and trash hitting her as the river churned toward a brooding forest closing in on opposite banks.

It was afternoon but she felt triply freezing, despite being a bit dried up, as she rested her hand on a fallen trunk of birch. Hearing a sloshing sound, her eyes darted to the bank, barely able to stay in their sockets. It was the convict, the knife in hand. He hasn’t seen her, and biting her lip, she kicked sod to try to disappear into wooden darkness.

She made good strides, and soon, the pale trunks of birches and darks of oaks had obliterated any sight of him. Mind bent on hanging on to her young dear life, she went on and on, not anymore having a sense of direction. Finally, fatigue wore her down. Slowing her. She whimpered that such weakness could now seal her fate.

Then her spine tingled, and her thought flashed to her, that she was going to die and her soul consumed.

From behind her, she saw a red thing zigging and zagging among the trees, gliding, blond hair billowing in the dead icy wind, and as it came closer, its hands extended forward, grasping, fingers and nails hooked and blood red, and the pentagram spewing black flames, it was Mona.

“Now to consummate the sacrifice!” she shrieked.

Kaycee stood immobile, and not knowing whether it came from Mona or her own surrender to the inevitable, saw herself rent to pieces just as she saw in a frozen second how Mona had brought death to her victims, engorging herself on their hearts, the price of her beauty, youth, and eternal pleasure, stipulated in a blood signed pact long ago in a grove in Salem.

A stinging blow in the ribs sent Kaycee flying, her body hitting the sod and dried crackling leaves. Before her sight faded she glimpsed the man, the psycho, in a flying tackle, two hands on the archaic knife, and stabbed gape-mouthed, fanged Mona dead center in her bosom. The knife blazed in blue light while Mona burst into flames, and white tongues with faces flew out of her, going heavenward. Eleazar fell, having received the brunt of Mona’s dark energies, rending his internal organs irreparably damaged. He gave Kaycee one last longful look, and a visible calm changed his sleeping visage.

For like an eternity, Kaycee awoke.

Lying on the ground was an extremely wrinkled and emaciated white woman, knife sticking out of her chest. A few feet away, was Eleazar, arms swollen and blue. Curious of him, she approached, and noticed an edge of a photograph sticking from his plaid shirt pocket. She took it and almost cried out.

It was her, as a little girl, cradled by this man, clean shaven, smiling and with hazelwood locks wavy and shiny. Kaycee’s mother stood behind them, beaming. She looked behind the picture and saw words written, or rather, etched on it, “Take the knife, and finish what we have started.”

Later she discovered that her father was convicted for the deaths of three women in two States, which she knew were just like Mona. Her mother’s death was brought about by one of them. Now, with more finesse than her father, she travels the country looking for fiends feeding off innocent people. Apparently, the knife also functions as an ATM card.

David Cook’s You’ll Always Be My Baby

The month of hearts is still a far way off but having heard this instant hit from the American Idol winner, I can’t help but fall in love again, remember those sweet times when our romance was new, although I don’t want to limit the feeling that this song evokes to only relationships of the heart, but to feel a deeper bond also with friends, siblings, and of course, sons and daughters.

Sticky

My gaze flows over you like full cream milk
Lathering you with sweetness of lactose
Touching your hair gives me a feeling of silk
Loving you as your nutrition overflows
You in my arms forgotten others’ ilk
Making music and our time slows.

Rapturous togetherness and loneliness banished almost forever.

Peoplepoemage: This is a little poetic ditty about one of my acquaintances, who has appalled me with his constant womanizing despite the fact he has a commitment with a long-time girlfriend.

Wanting Every One Except My Girlfriend

Waiting in the wings
Snorting like a horse in a desolate stall
A chick in a nest waiting for the worm
Pining away like Echo
While the mayordomo
Rides all the mares
Caresses their pelt
While the cat on the porch
Has no one her to stroke
Soon the fount will dry
And no bastard will be even
Conceived
A desert is born
The Kalahari of his heart.

Found Poetry: Kiss Me

“Kiss Me/Sixpence None the Richer”

Kiss me
Out of the bearded barley
Nightly
Beside the green, green grass
Swing, swing
Swing the spinning step
You wear those shoes and I will wear that dress

Oh, kiss me
Beneath the milky twilight
Lead me
Out on the moonlit floor
Lift up your open hand
Strike up the band
And make the fireflies dance
Silver moon’s sparkling
So kiss me

Kiss me
Down by the broken tree house
Swing me
Upon its hanging tire
Bring, bring
Bring your flowered hat
We’ll take the trail marked on your father’s map

Oh, kiss me
Beneath the milky twilight
Lead me
Out on the moonlit floor
Lift up your open hand
Strike up the band
And make the fireflies dance
Silver moon’s sparkling
So kiss me

Kiss me
Beneath the milky twilight
Lead me
Out on the moonlit floor
Lift up your open hand
Strike up the band
And make the fireflies dance
Silver moon’s sparkling
So kiss me

So kiss me
So kiss me
So kiss me

This playful and truly optimistic song which evokes cheerful images of evening advent for me seem conveys the mystery behind a kiss, the mystery it recreates, and the bliss that is revitalized between two committers the same way the evening falling renews every tired muscle and stressed out mind after a gruelling day. Indeed, one’s first kiss or a kiss from a loved one, expected and then turning to the unexpected, can strike up a band and make fireflies dance and silver moon sparkling.

Take care, y’all!

February Love Poems III

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Wet and Dry Haiku

Souls of Desert sand
Seek heart moisture of two falls
You and me:oasis

When We Are Old

Look at them
Young men and women
Eyes
Constellations
Of a galaxy
We’re never alone in the universe
Renewing the ties
The gravity of distant suns
Fountaining in their bossoms
We are like that
Now we have our white hair
And laugh at each other’s wrinkles
I’ll just look into your Eyes
The constellations of Us
Never dim
In their starlight.

Smelling the Flowers

I passed by
Your window
To smell your flowers
Bright magnolias
Violets Sunflowers
Orchids of blue
Roses of wine
I never want them to wither
I dread the day
That I couldn’t smell them
No more
So I go to you
The caretaker
Of those flowers
So that I will be watered
Fertilized
And sang to by you
Every morning
So we will always Bloom
Then
Only then
Will those flowers
By your window
Will never fade.

Farewell for Now-Ku

Going to the office
We kiss our goodbyes
We’ll sleep later

In the same bed again.

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I’m Not Going to Run Away

I’m not gonna run away
Though I’m a stallion in a rut
To your dungeon I’m taken away
To clasp your hand as you putt.

No more will I chase gazelles
Their furry rumps in the air
This lion will chew yellow bells
Salivate when you descend the stair.

Panic grabbed my balls and squeezed
When you tearfully stayed my lascivious hand
But the virus of polygamy was sneezed
When I saw your eyes the promised land.

So please loosen around my hips these ropes
I’m tired of running from me
Want to be the rock of your hopes
Gonna run with you to our big blue sea.

~~~ 

Chains

You have me fettered
In chains
I cannot move this way and that
I face the wall lettered

With a contract
To look out of a barred window
For all eternity
For one sexual act

These chains
Fluffed to petals and flowers
Without allergy
I roll and dream in this hammock
As my age gains

Your chains are my chains
Reborn into tendrils with grapes
My and your future it shapes
Cuddling each other as it rains.

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Note: I posted this for the benefit of some students who would like to have an idea of the book before undertaking serious reading on this novel. Actually, I did this for a student of my sister’s, so the language of the summary, characterization, and other insights from the story has been adjusted to the lexical knowledge of a primary level pupil.

However, the literary value and merit of this novel did not escape my notice, hence, I also added a commentary at the end portion for the benefit of advanced readers.

Title: Holes
Author: Louis Sachar
Year published: 1998
Place of Publication: USA
Setting: The main setting of the story is in Camp Green Lake, an arid place in Texas where juvenile delinquents were sentenced for character building. It was a former settlement that was abandoned due to hot weather conditions.

Main Characters

Stanley Yelnats IV – He was punished for a crime he did not commit. He was a caring person who loved his parents. He was also brave when it came to helping his friend. He was frequently bullied and misunderstood. However, he was able to prove that he was truly a good person at heart.

The Warden/Ms. Walker – She was the descendant of the Walkers who killed Sam, the Negro onion peddler and later, his beloved Kate Barlow. She believed that Barlow had buried treasure in the dried lake, the stash of her years of being an outlaw. She used the boys in digging holes in the ground, hoping to find the treasure. She was ruthless and violent.

Zero/Hector Zeroni – He was a homeless Black boy who stole Clyde Livingston’s sneakers. He became Stanley’s friend. He learned reading from Stanley, while he helped him dig holes. Together they found Kate Barlow’s treasure which was actually the suitcase robbed from Stanley’s great great grandfather of the same name, which contained documents that made both of them wealthy.

Mr. Pedanski – He was one of the camp guidance counselors. He was kind to most of the campers but he subjected himself to the Warden’s ruthless schemes. He had degraded Zero often, and for that Zero hit him with a shovel in the face.

Mr. Sir – He was the camp guard who always ate sunflower seeds. He was indifferent to other people’s suffering, just like the Warden. The Warden scratched his face with poisonous nail polish, making his face swell and ache.

Ms. Morengo – She was Stanley’s lawyer who proved his innocence in the accusation and was able to have Stanley and Zero released out of Camp Green Lake. She was bright and a commanding personality.

Stanley’s Companions – They were Rex/X-ray, Alan/Squid, Theodore/Armpit, Jose/Magnet, Ricky/Zigzag, and Brian/Twitch. They welcomed Stanley into their group but eventually, Stanley had to put up with their bad attitudes and selfishness.

SUMMARY

Stanley came from a long line of Stanley Yelnats which seemed to have befallen under a curse originating from their Latvian forefather who reneged his oath to carry the Gypsy Madame Zeroni up a mountain. His had the worst misfortune of being accused of stealing a celebrity’s pair of sneakers and was sentenced to Camp Green Lake for behavioral adjustment. It was a desolate camp where poisonous lizards that could kill a person crawled in hiding places in the soil.

He soon discovered that he, along with the other boys, were sentenced for more hardship in the hot, dry place in Texas under the scheming and unscrupulous Warden. He learned that they were just used to find the buried treasure of the legendary Kissin’ Kate Barlow, the Texas Outlaw. His companions were also unruly and offensive, although they were the only gang he had. Eventually he found a friend in Zero/Hector, whom he taught how to read, and in return, helped him dig holes. This made the other boys envy them and tease them about it. It led to a riot.

He found an item that belonged to Kate Barlow and gave it to X-Ray, who then presented it to the Warden. This made the Warden supervise the digging herself, making Stanley realize that there might be treasure in his hole. Giving it to X-Ray, she thought it was around his hole. He kept this to himself.

Mr. Pedanski hurt Zero with his degrading remarks, angering Zero. He hit the counselor’s face with a shovel and fled toward the wilderness.

Stanley’s concern for Zero was too strong, that he escaped the camp and braved the hot dry lake in search of his friend. He found him at last, in the middle of dryness, and he had survived on hundred year old preserves found in a stranded boat used by Kate Barlow’s love, Sam, the onion peddler.

Remembering the family story of his great grandfather being robbed by Barlow and surviving in the desert by climbing “God’s thumb”, a mountain seen on the far horizon, they decided to hike toward it in the hopes of finding water. Zero got sick of the “Sploosh” preserves, and had to be carried up the mountain by Stanley. With the last of their strength and enduring all sorts of physical challenges, they reached the high mountain spring and found abundant onion plants that became their food. Here, Stanley hatched the plan to dig up Barlow’s treasure at the camp. After weeks at the spring, they packed onions and water, containers taken from camp and the boat, went down the mountain and reached camp in the evening, all in days travel, pausing to rest at the abandoned boat.

After locating Stanley’s hole and alternated digging, they hit pay dirt. They found a suitcase, but before they could know what’s inside, the Warden and her henchman had caught them. They were about to take the find, when poisonous lizards, coming from the hole that they dug, crawled all over Zero and Stanley. The Warden thought they would die because of the lizards, but they were left unharmed. The lizards didn’t bite people who ate too much onions. Because of the long wait lasting till daybreak, Stanley’s lawyer, Ms. Morengo, and the Attorney General of Texas were able to reach them on time.

Ms. Morengo had exonerated Stanley of the crime accused of him and had come to have him released from the camp but the Warden, eager to take Barlow’s treasure from him, had tried to detain him with false arguments. Ms. Morengo, with her legal expertise, saw through her machinations and, together with the Attorney General, placed the camp under strict government control, and they also freed the other boys from more digging. They finally released Stanley and Zero and were brought back to their families.

The suitcase, belonging to Stanley’s great grandfather, contained Barlow’s jewels and financial documents that were worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. Ms. Morengo took care of legalities, after which Stanley and Zero became rich inheritors. Finally, Stanley broke his family’s string of misfortunes, while Zero, with his share, was able to find his long lost mother. Through them, the “curse” was lifted, and Kate Barlow’s death was finally given justice.

MORAL LESSON – The main lesson in the story is that, despite of overwhelming odds, and as long as you know in your heart what you are doing is right, you must persevere in achieving what you are hoping and striving for, especially if it is for the sake of your family and friends.

FAVORITE QUOTATION – “I can fix that”. – Sam, the Negro onion peddler.

MY OWN ENDING – The story has ended with a happy conclusion expected for Stanley’s and Zero’s families, and I liked that ending for them. I think that an alternate ending for the other boys would be good. For example, instead of staying at Camp Green Lake, they could be relocated in a safer, more climatically better site where they could truly reform themselves into better persons. The Warden, Mr. Pedanski, and Mr. Sir should be sent to jail for their criminal actions towards the boys.

Commentary: I admire the way Sachar intertwined almost more three subplots in “Holes”: Causative to the main plot, he portrayed as essential and predisposing events first the family history of the Yelnats beginning in Latvia, and second, the legend of Kissin’ Kate Barlow, the famous outlaw in Texas.

The latter spoke of a curse, that the author seemed to discount at first, placing it side by side with the hard reality of the protagonist’s implied social disadvantage, but, as if to intrigue the reader at the end, still connected the inadvertent and coincidental fulfillment of the curse’s demand at the end, and then again, the author added with a glee unseen by us, maybe not. This is literary whimsicality that has entertaining and thought-provoking results as well.

I found the Legend of Outlaw Barlow romantic and feminist, and speaks about the arbitrariness, hence, fallibility, of human laws at the time, paired with the ultimate lawgiver and jailer in most people, the mind in consonance with the heart. For your benefit let me give you a precis of that subplot.

Kate Barlow was a schoolteacher in Green Lake, Texas who was wanted by Trout Walker, but she fell in love with the onion peddler/handyman/herbalist Sam, who was a Negro. Caught kissing in public, Sam was doomed to be punished for that, as stipulated by the racist laws of that time (1900’s). The townspeople threatened to lynch Sam, but he escaped with Kate. He was later shot and killed by Walker. Kate turned into the most feared highway/bank robber and killer in Texas, while Green Lake dried up and the town of the same name became abandoned.

She had held up Stanley’s Great-grandfather, at that time laden with financial documents of value. She had buried her stash in the lake. Jilted suitor Walker tried to get her to reveal the location of her treasure at gunpoint, but she died laughing after being bitten by a poison yellow spotted lizard. From then on, Walker’s descendants had dug holes, whence the title, in Green Lake, and the last Walker used juveniles serving time in its search, which included the descendant of Barlow’s rich victim, young Stanley Yelnat, who eventually found it, broke the curse, and ended his family’s economic bad luck.

I enjoyed reading it, and I hope you will too.

Breaking Up with a Tear

The full moon watched
As I prepared to close
The page on us
For me to move on
To the next girl
As my words
Impaled the air before your face
I saw
I saw
A tear fall from the corner of your eye
That shone brighter than the moon
And turned the lover filled lane to a blurry gray
I saw
In your full tear drop with LCD clarity
My children and grandchildren
Your smile that will never ever fade with time
The afterglow of our fleeting bliss
Our clasping age spotted hands
And our singing in a better place
My heart then sought to live in that tear
I choked on the word good
Bye
I sobbed inside on what a fool I’ve been
I said
Hush now
Don’t cry
Stop it
I will never leave you
Ever
I hugged you
In that tree circled lover’s lane
Under the full moon
I broke up with a tear
And preminisced our years.

Stolen
Dashboard Confessional
(Click verse to watch video)

We watched the season pull up its own stakes, and catch the last weekend of the last week. Before the gold and the glamour have been replaced, another sun-soaked season fades away.You have stolen my heart. You have stolen my heart.Invitation only, grant farewells, crushed the best one of the best ones. Clear liquor and cloudy eye, too early to say goodnight.

You have stolen my heart. You have stolen my heart.

And from the ballroom floor we are in celebration, one good stretch before our hibernation. Our dreams assured, and we all, we’ll sleep well.

Sleep well, sleep well, sleep well, sleep well.

You have stolen my, you have stolen, you have stolen my heart.

Watch you spin around in your highest heels, you are the best one of the best ones. We all look like we feel.

You have stolen my, you have stolen my, you have stolen my heart.

I have loved so much before death, and will love more so, and I love you all.

Roy had such a dark mood the past week. His wife, Linda, had intuited that he was having an affair, and he indeed, had an affair with a co-worker, which might be fast becoming a corporate culture. Linda employed the sleuthing services of the TV show, Cheaters, and Roy and his young paramour 10 years his junior would have been seen on National TV en flagrante had he, being somewhat geekly clairvoyant, had not noticed those trying hard to be unnoticed black vans with unusually dark window tints pulling up in the parking lots of the motels they had trysted in. Roy had seen enough episodes of the show to recognize the crew who had the most lovable habit of barging into couples’ heat of the moment, with the lovers’ bleep-bleeping words and their hand-quicker-than-the-eye grabs for underwear televised for all to hear and see.

He had confronted Linda and she admitted to it, saying that the least scum like him deserved. She said she wanted a divorce.
“So what”, Roy spat. The next day, Linda had his things thrown out on the yard, while their children, Erika and Taylor, mutely looked on.

A week later, Roy was walking along the morning crowd on the sidewalk of 5th avenue, when he got ear of a news flash from an appliance store TV whose volume made the show window glass seem immaterial. He heard a live interview of a senior Louisiana black woman in mid-sentence.

“…she touched me and all of a sudden, ah had dee premonishun, ah, vizhun, of mah huzbund behahnd duh wheel, crashin’ duh tree trunk. Ah ain’t believin’ it, ah thowt ah wuz jus’ halluzinatin’. Mah poor Walter, I nagged him yes’t’day mohnin’, and”, the woman started to cry, “he’s gohn. Dat gurl, dat anjuhl, she warned me, but ah didn’t listen.”
“Can you describe how the girl looks like?” the female reporter evenly asked.
“She had big dark brown eyes, long straight black hair, an oval face, white skin, with arch’d eyebrows. She looked lahk an anjuhl. She moved like she floated. ‘N’ when ah came to, she’s gone.”
“You’re delirious”, Roy scoffed, and whistling, ambled towards his office, with the accounting clerk’s little round naked ass foremost on his mind.

Last night was pretty swell for Roy. After work, his woman treated him to grilled steak and some beers, and they hied off to a hotel, with a tip for the front desk to inform him of any suspicious looking camcorder armed smart-asses. After a brisk tumble in the sheets, he complained how Linda had become a pain in the neck, delaying the processing of their divorce papers by this reason and that.
“But tomorrow afternoon, we’re legally through”, he beamed as he caressed a nipple. The girl just yawned, turned her back to him, and dozed off.

The morning after, Roy was busy perusing a mag at a newsstand owned by an old Asian man.
“Noh prahvet reading, mistah.:
“I’ll pay for this, don’t worry”, he replied. Then, he felt the hairs on his neck rise. He turned his face to his left. He saw a girl, no more 5 foot 3, in a white blouse, below the knee white skirt, and white shoes, just standing there. Passers-by seemed not to see her motionlessness. Then she started toward him, floating. She was before him now, and a hand reached languidly but caressingly toward his cheek.
“I’m not going to see my kids in some freak accident, no!” he shouted, but no noise came from his flexing throat. He shut his eyelids so hard it hurt. He felt her cold fingers on his face, then.

He opened his eyes, automatically so, to what appeared to be a wide green lawn full of aged people in the bright sunshine. He tried to bound toward the space but couldn’t, he just budge the wheelchair he was in, and beheld his age-spotted, wrinkled, veined, bony hands gripping the handlebars. The wheels were locked. He heard conversation, and to his left, under the nursing care home’s roof awning and high white pillars, stood a family: an aged couple and two young adults, the mother and the younger companions oddly familiar to him. They were talking to one another before a wheelchair-ed old gentleman, so senile, he just nodded every now and then.
“Good thing, honey, we had plenty of exercise and our two darlings didn’t send us here. I pity your brother here, he seldom gets visits from his family”, the father said.
“I raised my kids well, Clark dear”, replied the old woman.
“Why can’t we take Uncle Joe with us?” asked the young lady, “he could sure be taken cared of well in our house.”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea. Your cousins put him here, they might take offense if we did take him in. The least we can do is visit your Uncle Joe”, the old man said. Roy thought, Linda’s brother’s name is Joe, too. If he is Joe, then they are my…

“Mista, mista?” the gentle Asian man was waving a hand before Roy’s face, “are you all right?”
“Oh! Yes”, he looked around. The girl was gone. He forgot about work. A drink would be in order, to think things out, he thought. He paid the guy for the mag.
“Keep the change”, he said.
“Thank yah, mista! Come again”, the guy called after him, shaking his head.

He arrived at Linda’s house past dinnertime. Necktie loose, coat in arm, hair long ruffled from his persistent hand combing at Jerry’s bar. After the doorbell, light from inside washed the front porch with a warm, yellowish glow. Roy now faced Linda’s chiseled features, blue eyes, creamy skin of her v-neck blouse, and slightly open cherry lips, expression all puzzled but a tad dismayed.
“What are you doing here, now? Are you drunk? You’re supposed to be here this afternoon, to sign our divorce papers.”
“Linda, I’m sorry.”
“Okay, you can come back tomorrow afternoon.”
“No, Linda. I meant I am really sorry. I realized my mistakes. I love you. I love Erika and Taylor. Please take me back. I promise, I’ll change for you, for the kids”, Roy pleaded, never minding when a window lighted up across the street. A lady walking her dog stopped at the road, pretending not to hear. Linda turned to a side.
“Don’t tell me that. You agreed to divorce me, and then this…”
“It’s all over, Linda. I’m not going to see anyone anymore, ever! Just take me back.”
“No. You’ve crossed the line”, Linda crossed her arms, her eyes like that of a falcon’s, “you…” Roy took her hand, knelt, and unabashedly sobbed on her pliant fingers.
“Linda, please! Don’t divorce me. I love you, please! Please, please, please!” Roy was crying steadily now, the smell of liquor mingling with the subtle scent of his tears, rose to Linda’s face. Her expression softened, her eyes wetting, lips tightening to a curved line. She lowered to her prodigal husband’s face, full of tears, and she too, was crying.
“All right now, stop that darling, it’s okay now”, she hugged him. Roy hugged her, the tightest she had ever received from him. A coarse man’s voice cut through the thick silence.
“What’s going on here? What do we have here, Days of Our Lives?” Both stood up to meet the uncouth entry.
“Clark, this is my husband, Roy”, Linda calmly said.
“I thought you was divorcing”, Clark’s lanky frame and blond head were inches above Roy’s.
“Not anymore”, she said.
“Wait a sec, there, we was going out”, Clark’s gesturing toward Roy, “he’s outta your life, right?”
“I’m asking you to leave.”
Clark puffed his chest, “Lindy Baby, I just arrived.”
“You heard my wife, asshole. Leave our house”, Roy snapped, not batting an eyelash. Clark pouted, crumpling his face obtusely. Without another word, he brushed past them.
Linda ushered Roy into the light, “Come on in, sweetheart. They’ll be glad to see you.” A few moments later…
“Daddy! You came back!”
“My darlings!”

Outside, the lady, who was almost by herself all her life, with only a dog for a companion, took in the rare scene. It was the happiest moment of my life, she thought. Her dog had big dark brown eyes, white fur. She moved on her fours like she skimmed the pavement. Her tail floated.