Oceans Mary

Oceans Mary

With 

The prince of tides

Never told

 Never Told

by john cla55

they never told me

you were one of the

mean girls

it would have been

nice had i known

now it is perfectly

clear to me

why the rejection

and here I thought

it was just some

imperfection in me that

kept me trying by

scoring touchdowns

sinking baskets

knocking fly balls

all in vain

when all along 

your interest lay

in trailer courts

in melon fields

cheap dates in

sand hill backseats

 grinding all the way

singing sweetly

coming Sunday

tears streaming freely

repenting again

for mean girls sin

again and again

but they do not cheer

nor do they care

for the boy who

bought his Wilson ball

up the Devil's court.

Light house lady

 Light house lady

It was a palatable pathos

Bourne upon the living

Upon others dreams

Guiding them safely in

To lovers awaiting anxiously 

Of the ever gazing over the

Horizon for some imagined

Ship to arrive from distant seas

Bearing treasures to ease 

This life of misery

The light upon every revolution 

Piercing for a moment her

Darkness

Illuminating the limpid eyes

Tears long since dried

The dark moment a welcome

Soothing interlude

May day

 May Day

May Day 

Ever get into a May Day sort of way?

It starts out like any other day

Then at the full glass door they come

And you stare, then open 

Letting in the guests again

The ones you threw out

The night before

And they in the morning over coffee

Resume the tormenting

You can’t get a word in

A fly lands upon the rim and falls in

What the hell (is this)

You swallow him

Listening 

Buzzing all the way down

Jobs

 Jobs

Hayfield tractor operator

Summer 

Watermelons

Summer

Williston Memorial Hospital

Maintenance

Cleveland Heights Methodist 

Lakeland

Dishwasher

Williston Memorial Hospital

Maintenance

Powers Service

Lake City

Service advisor 

Warranty clerk

Parts

Fired

Lake City Reporter

Photographer

Darkroom tech

Laid off

Jones and Presnell

Traveling store photographer

Sylvia,NC

Quit

JCPenney

Display advertising

Merchandiser

Assistant Mgr

Fired

Sears

Commissioned sales

Store closed

Florida Power and Light

Meter reader

Temp one year 

Baya Medical

DME tech driver

Fired

Morgan Group

Photographer 

Outsourced 

Porter

Stroke

Probably no more jobs

Dreamscape

 Dreamscape

They said, what good was all this photography?

This obsession with image

He could not answer

He was too busy framing

Back focusing to that first time

In that Wacahoota field

With the camera along

Knowing that from now on

He and Nikon would not be alone.

A turkey for a Rollei

 Tonight I'm stoked for the Rollei Steve Stafford gave me with light meter. Steve did all his early wildlife photography with this camera. He acquired it in 1964 from Dale Crider who at the time had purchased a Pentax SLR and was throwing it in the trash at the Game Commission.

Steve has two paintings by Sessions. This one of Ruffed Grouse hunt on which he did his wildlife biology thesis.

I had to offer something so I traded an 8x10 of Techno Turkey, the turkey I called in with a phone app.

Roger

No hill to die on

Each time I see these old geezers struggling up hills, I think of my friend Roger and his slow zig zag up, never walking the bike up, then his later fast gliding down the other side, leaving us, until the next hill.

Idle speed

 Idle speed

Roscoe I said, load up. I didn’t really need to tell him. He watches and knows the cues. Cameras in hand, keys off the refrigerator jingling. He’s already at the door waiting. I don’t know what his excitement is, the smells, the scraps, the territory to mark. We arrive and after the preliminary scouting out, settles for the patient looking up as the photographer waits idly by.

I suppose like me, just being idle is enough.

Sea shell station

 Sea Shell Station

We pulled off the beaten way interstate on our journey from this fair Floridian state, the roar of the ocean fading. As we loaded back in toward Alabama, there in the window she was calling. It was a tortuous journey away.

Belted

 Useful and uplifting

It's not the height of woke outdoor fashion, we can spot them a mile down trail, wide brim sun flapping khaki hat,  eye hiding Oakley's of course, vented, various elite safari or fishing poplins, the endless cargo pocketed pants with infinite zips, the Chuuka's or Teva's or whatever sandal is the vogue. The rope belt got me across the Robinson branch once, but mostly it just holds the pants up. I'm sure it's a yuppie woke thing, but the split leather I forgot to bring.

Baker Act

 "BAKER  ACT"-ING MAMA

Aurelia D Wallace

Because I can't remember

What I had for lunch, they

Think I'm getting senile.

I hear them whispering

About the Shady Elms.

Good God, I'm not ready

For Shady Elms! I can

Still read Greek, I know

The whole score of Lucia,

(Though they don't take me

To music anymore, since

I've had to wear these paper

Pants). I can make Martha Washington's

Own recipe for Sally Lunn,

Without once peeking. I can

Recite the names and birthdays of all

Nine grandchildren, and I know

Franklin Roosevelt is dead.

                            All they ask me, though,

Is my street number backwards

And what I had for lunch, what

Day it is. Of course I know

Where I live, silly: inside these bones,

This bag my skin. No none needs

To know what I know anymore.

How is it they don't know

All days are Sunday--

As long as I can breathe

This splendid, cautious air?