Poetry

A good poet pays attention while he drives, 
a great poet pays attention while he walks.

Bernal 

Dora Does Jet Ski

         
            I didn't know this about Dora, but she likes to ride Jet Skis in Marina Del Rey on her days off. She rides fast and hard as she put it. So hard that she bruises her knees from banging them on the plastic body of the ski.
            Her solution to the problem was to buy a couple of compression knee braces at the ninety-nine cent store and some kitchen sponges. She's going to stuff the braces with the sponges to soften the blow as she rides. Then all she'll need is a pair of good sunglasses to keep the salt water from her eyes.
             I stood dumbfounded as Dora told me the details of her plan. I offered suggestions to replace the kitchen sponges, but none of my ideas were any better. I'll be interested to know how it turns out. It will either work like a charm, or cut off her circulation completely.

Hallelujah

            
            I once sat down to play an acoustic guitar at a music store. There was a sign posted: please don't play Hallelujah. I laughed. I like the song myself, and frankly, I think it's cool that people know of Leonard Cohen because of it. That is if they don't think Jeff Buckley wrote it.
            The other night while at my once a week gig, a man came up to me and said he wanted to hear some Motown. He put a bill down on the pool table as a tip. I forgot about the man, but on the way to the bathroom I heard him say "hey, what happened to the Motown?" Oh yeah, next song I told him. 
            When I came out of the bathroom I heard him complaining to the bartender about the music. My friend was playing Hallelujah at the time. He was doing a great job of it as far as I was concerned. It wasn't a sappy version like some others. My friend has a deep voice, and it sounded good. But the man, maybe he had too much to drink or something, he just couldn't take it anymore and exploded in his seat. He was yelling at the top of his lungs. I'm not sure what he was saying. The bartender had to ask him to leave. Some people just can't stand that song. It turns them into salami heads.
             I picked up the tip the man had left. It was a buck. All that for a buck. I tried giving it to the bartender, but she didn't want it. She tried giving back to me, but I didn't want it. She put it into my musician friend's pocket. A smile came to his face. "I didn't even have to dance for it!"

Yellow Jacket

         
           I stepped on a yellow jacket in my bare feet. I felt a zing shoot through my foot and when I looked down I saw the little guy struggling for life. I disembowled him. I had to pull his stinger from my foot. They pack a punch for their size. It's amazing when you think about it. The amount of energy they have stored up in them. 
            Four or five of his yellow jacket buddies were circling around him as he died. It was almost as if they were checking to see if he was alright, or if they could help in anyway. They were still circling when he finally died. It was a funeral of sorts for making the ultimate sacrifice. I left them alone just in case they had intentions of revenge. 
            My foot still hurts, but thankfully I didn't swell up and break into hives. The sting is interesting to me. The immediacy of the pain. My reaction to it. I poured rice vinegar on it. I figured that it would keep it clean, but I was hoping it would take the pain away. I was in a bit of a panic and grabbed the first thing that came to mind as a remedy. It didn't take the pain away. I guess the only remedy for a sting is time. Time heals all stings, personal, or otherwise. 
            

Pigeons of The Government

         
            I was with the masses at Venice Beach when a pigeon walked up and looked me in the eye. I was a big fan of the television show Get Smart when I was a kid, and I imagined the pigeon as an agent for the government. And the not-so-attractive woman sunbathing next to me as Agent 13.
            I don't usually go to Venice Beach, so it was a very different experience for me. I liked it. It reminded me of the old days when being around people was fun for me.
            I made my way to the water. The waves were not the best, but everybody was having a good time. I had a notion that people were not much different from chimps as they played. I'm a chimp, you're a chimp, everybody's a chimp. The waves were rolling in and we chimps were diving under them to survive. There was a joyful laughter to survival. The living was good.
            I got out of the water and was sitting on my towel daydreaming, when a sexy lady in a bikini spotted a dolphin just beyond the surf. "There's a dolphin!" 
            As it turned out there was a pod of them playing and blowing water from their blowholes. I'd never seen so many in one place. I thought to myself, the little rapists are having a good time. Dolphins are rapists, but nobody seems to mind. We chimps, pigeon agents of the government, the rapists, Agent 13. We were all at the same place, at the same time, and that place was Venice Beach California on a hot summer day in Los Angeles.
         
            

Dora #5

         
            I was talking to Dora. She asked me if I ever watched the sitcom Head Of The Class? 
            No, not that I can remember. Why? 
            Because I have a date with Arvid tomorrow night. 
            Arvid? Who's that? She pulled up a clip of the TV show on her phone and showed it to me. There was a scene with a nerdy guy with glasses. I shook my head and laughed. We're meeting for coffee. We both laughed. Hahaha!!!

Bar Stories

             
            Last night I was talking to Angel the bartender. I asked if he'd heard from Kiki, a bartender who worked with him years ago. He said he hadn't heard from him, that they weren't friends. Then he told me a story about how Kiki accused him of putting a jalapeño in his eye drops. Angel denied doing it, but Kiki didn't believe him and held a grudge for years. They didn't talk when they worked together, that's how bad it was.
             Kiki turned on me too. We had a good relationship until one night I brought in a woman I was dating for a few drinks. Kiki fell in love with her. And when the woman and I stopped dating Kiki took her side and was friends with her, but not me. He stopped talking to me, and treated me as if I'd beaten the girl or something. Years later he started talking to me again, but it was too late then.  
            Last night after a few bourbons and a beer I told Angel that I was impotent, which isn't true.
            Really? Yeah really. I don't believe you. You're joking right? No, it's true. I made a wilting flower gesture with my finger. You're kidding? No, I'm not.
            I'm not sure why I told Angel that. I just wanted to mess with him, kind of like the person who messed with Kiki, by a putting jalapeño in his eye drops.