in’ ish

20130908-P1070402

It’s not easy to be in relationship. I’ve been a child all my life. When my gin rummyin’ Scotch-sluggin’ big-bellying grandfather died, as grandfathers do, the good son came home, grief-stricken and guilty, and beseeched his daughter to kill the dog, and bang, I’m as old as I am. You can mark time by birthdays and by deaths, by teapots and by dogs. There was babysitter dog I euthanized, epileptic dog that spoke in tongues, curly brown dog that knew the way home, savant dog that dressed in black, and now spotted dog that talks back. I just couldn’t make much sense of it all. Then along comes the sense-maker, and Ouch, do I have a sore ass. If it weren’t for trees. I had a dream once, noir, the the stabbed me in the gut, butter and the butter knife, and I didn’t wake up, just felt outside it all the life force flowing out of me. All oceany. You can mark time by dreams. He says he’ll wander into the snow when it’s time to go, but he’s said other things and found them untrue, and so. The Sisters dress in white monk robes. Their voices sound like taking apart a watch, all the little shiny things. If they’d have me without all the accouterments, I’d go. My mother took me across the bay, the BART train clackety-clack, one day we ate tunafish, another day chili dogs. Trying to make sense out of things is just another. Shopping carts will have better wheels. I like the willowy ones with highfalutin baskets. No sense to carry around too much. Some people’s generosity out-weighs the mountains. I hope I’m like that next time back. In the meantime, the bugs get a ride out the front door. We’ll all meet again at the lunch counter. What’s a dog to do when confronted with a hula-hoop

except jump?

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7 thoughts on “in’ ish

  1. Wow, there are so many delectable images here. The dog varieties, the Sisters’ voices, the generosity outweighing mountains, and the shopping carts even! They ARE sorta willowy, those new ones. Thanks! :-)

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