Bill

            Bill the smog guru has gone missing. I stopped by his shop a couple of times, and there’s no one around. I called his cell phone and my call went straight to voicemail. His mailbox is full. I have a bad feeling. He wouldn’t leave his place on a whim and he’s not the vacation type of guy. I’m thinking maybe he’s sick and in the hospital or even worse. I sent him a text message, “Are you alive?” He didn’t text back. I hope he’s okay. 

Car Show

            I’m playing bass at car show on Saturday. I need the money to support my studio habit. It’s for a Chevy car club out in the desert. The band has been asked not to play the song Mustang Sally. It’s offensive in some way. It’s funny to me. We could change the words to Corvette Connie. Corvette Connie, guess you better slow your Corvette down, Corvette Connie!

            What ever it takes. If there were money in poetry I’d be reading my poems.  

Viva Cantina

            I had a gig at Viva Cantina last night. I had never played there before. The place butts up against the Los Angeles Equestrian Center. There were horses parked in the back and the smell of manure was prevalent. At times I thought I was in Texas. There were kids wearing cowboy hats, and men walking through the bar with spurs on their boots. The wait staff was nice and the restaurant fed us well. I was paid more than expected. All and all it was an interesting night. 

A Doozy

            I met a woman yesterday at a local café. She was an attractive woman. I wasn’t expecting to meet anyone, so I was a little surprised when I found myself talking to her.

Somehow through the course of our conversation she told me that a friend in her inner circle confided that he was hired to kill her. I didn’t ask why. I played it off as everyday conversation. It wasn’t any of my business, or was it what I wanted to hear while making friends. I started looking over my shoulder. That’s all I need I thought.

            I said good-bye to the woman as soon as the opportunity presented itself. As first impressions go, that was a doozy.   

Not Once, But Twice

            Can a man die twice? Richard Dawson the famed host of Family Feud did in my mind. The first time he died was in the nineties, I thought I read about his death in the obituaries. I stored it away in my memory bank and was convinced he was dead. He hadn’t made any public appearances, or was he visible to me in anyway, so imagine my surprise when I read he died the second time. How can that be? I thought he was already dead? It turns out he wasn’t. Reality is a tricky thing my friends, and in this instance death came not once, but twice. 

Every Man in The Room

I went out last night to my favorite lounge. I like to put on a suit once a week and hit the town. My friend John is the manager of the place. We usually talk about politics and the absurdity of life. It’s my once a week social hour.

I was standing by myself when a woman with a pair of large breast came up to me and gave me a big hug.

“You look so nice in your suit,” she said.

She was a middle-aged woman, and pretty good looking at that. She took me by surprise with the hug. I still got it, I thought to myself. She hugged me again. I liked the feel of her breast as they smashed against me. She walked to the restroom. I lost track of her.

            I was outside talking to John when a waitress interrupted us. "There's a drunk lady hopping table to table. She's bothering the patrons." she said. 
            John went inside to take care of it. I saw him a little while later with the lady with the big breast. She was being shown the door. Eighty-sixed. My ego suffered some with the realization that the woman was hitting on every man in the room. 

The Tree

There’s a tree in my neighbor’s backyard. It has been trimmed on more than one occasion. It’s a big beautiful tree. It stands straight and tall. Every few years my neighbor will lop off the top of the tree to protect his view of the city.

I was feeling kind of down the other day and I found myself staring at the tree. I thought, wow! That tree has seen its fair share of disappointments. The scars are evident. The branches are thick, and then blunt, as they taper into thinner branches that have grown back after each hacking. I thought of the trees branches as failed relationships, death, and economic hardship, the things in life that can bring you down.

            The tree could’ve given up a long time ago, but it’s still standing, and it's greener and prouder then ever.