Maybe: An Enigma.
Maybe if I had played my cards
a little closer to my chest,
you wouldn’t then have known
that I had played my best;
now I have to wait
for your tom foolery
to decide what to do
with the rest of me
*pic courtesy of wikipedia
The grin-faced pistachios look up at me from the bowl.
Are you looking at me? I say. You looking at me?
But the dumb pistachios just keep on grinning.
You’re nuts, I say. Nuts !
He brings me a muffin.
I asked for a blueberry.
I get choc chip.
I asked for a fork.
He brings me a knife.
You’ve got no idea how rude customers can be, he says to a couple at the next table. You don’t know what you’re doing, mate, they sometimes say. Hey! I’ve got backbone. I bite back: Don’t know what I’m doing??? You don’t know what you’re talking about, I say to them. I’ve been in this trade for ten years.
His face is going red. He starts to inflate like a pufferfish. His words bristle.
The couple cower before their coffee.
So how was it, chief? he asks me in passing.
You don’t know what you’re doing, I feel like saying but my mouth is full of muffin.
Instead I give him the thumbs up. It seems the best policy. I’ve made his day.
The devil was in the neighbourhood fishing for souls.
Denison was desperate. He couldn’t make it as a novelist. Maybe as a musician. He always wanted to play in a band.
Very well, the Devil said. Wish granted.
Denison found he could play any instrument he wanted. But he was still unhappy.
What’s the problem? the Devil asked.
I’m getting nowhere, he said.
I’m not the fucking genie in the bottle! He replied. I have powers but they are limited. I’ve granted you ability. The rest is up to you.
That’s a cop out, Denison snapped.
Blame the big guy in the sky.
It’s not enough. I want to rescind the bargain, Denison said.
Too late, the Devil said, as He flipped a switch. Denison disappeared down the trapdoor beneath him, busily expostulating …
I’ve been taking myself to the cinema again
watching brooding masterpieces like ‘The Dry,’
learning to play Scrabble by myself but not too often
as I’m a bad loser; giving my self-esteem a face lift,
shed a few kilos, muscled up, become sharper;
I post more , comment more especially on posts
that comment on mine: the noble art of reciprocity;
but, most of all, I move more easily in the world.
have got to know myself more, and know in spite
of slurs like ‘nutcase’ and ‘creepy lizard’ I’m not
such a bad guy
He knew everything,
That little green figurine
on a metal base
a gold wand in his hand .
We’d stand him on the board
inside his metal slot
[ It was all done with magnets ,
I explained to my grandson ]
and point him to what
we wanted to know —
the capital of Mongolia , for instance ,
or what was the longest river in the world ?
Then we’d lift him off
place him on this little mirror
surrounded by answers
on the other board
and watch him go .
He’d wobble a little bit
at first
as though he was thinking
then slowly turn and point
to an answer .
He always got it right .
Kids would come over and we’d run
quiz shows
with the robot as quiz master .
There were lots of questions
on lots of topics .
He knew them all .
Then one day his powers died.
And he knew nothing.
We put him out in the shed.
I never got to ask him the big ones
like what will I be when
I grow up
or when the world end will end
or where animals go
when they die ?
For a long , long time
there was nothing
like him .
The along came something
just as good ,
the internet of course .
That’s the Magic Robot
for these times .
You can ask it any thing
you want
though it still can’t answer
the big ones
My daughter has been Axe Throwing with some friends from work.
Apparently it is the new thing.
It’s a bit like darts only more dangerous,
I’ve been hit with a dart in the hand the last time I played,
Being hit with a hatchet would be a totally different thing.
People are encouraged to bury the hatchet in the target not in each other.
This is not ‘Vikings’.
It looks like fun. I’m thinking of going along.
But I have too many axes to grind so I better
stick to darts.
* have you ever been axe throwing? or taken part in any other dangerous activity?
*if axe throwing is a more dangerous form of darts what is a more dangerous form of chess?
John Malone 