Under the Influence

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Under the influence

I wrote copiously

From midnight to morning

Dementedly

 

A devil held my hand

An accomplice flayed my side

My mind had an erection

It could not hide

 

All my past spilled out

From the attic of my mind

My pen swept it up

I was writing blind.

 

Such dark energy

Flowed through me

and out through my fingers

its estuary.

 

* have you ever been driven to write in the middle of the night that took hours?

No!

haunted-path

Still they come, she said, the bibles, prayer shawls, letters.

People are very supportive, he said.

But the attic is full of them.

Their grief and incomprehension are still strong. Who can explain such a thing?

And the candy?  Those bags of caramels. It wouldn’t hurt ….

What are you doing? He said, reaching out.

Surely it wouldn’t hurt to have a few? After all, they were meant for us.

No, said Peter Lanza, the father of the Sandy Hook killer, knocking them from her hand. They may be poisoned.

 

 

The Next Big Thing

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I saw the sign out the front, I say. I was intrigued. So who are you?

I’m The Next Big Thing, he says.

Can I get your autograph then?

That’ll be five dollars thank you.

Five bucks?!

John Travolta charges 200 for his.

But he’s someone.

Did you read the sign?

Yes.

Well, I’m The Next Big Thing. You’re getting it cheap. When I hit the big time ….

Okay, I say, I see your point, handing over my five bucks.

The Broom Closet

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The phone rings.

Me: [chirpy] Oh Hi Lynne. Good to hear from you.

L: Oooops. Sorry, John. Didn’t mean to phone you. I pressed the wrong button.

Me: [shoulders slump] Don’t feel bad, Lynne. Most people who phone me don’t mean to.

L: Oh.

Me: It’s alright. I’ll have a little weep in the broom closet and get over it. Until the next time, that is. But just don’t ask me ….

L: [sounding worried]. What?

Me: RUOK?

L: Well are you?

I hang up.

 

 

Five Angry Snickers

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What are we even doing here?

You took us from the cool supermarket shelves and abandoned us on this warm table.

Why?

Because some kids might rock up on Halloween and say “Trick or Treat?” and you don’t want to come across as the bad guy.

Well, take a look around. No one’s knocked.

What are you going to do with us? You don’t even like chocolate.

Oh God, you’re not going to dump us, are you? Can we appeal to your better nature and take us back to the supermarket? They’ll be glad to see us.

Wait. Did you hear that? There’s a knock at the door. I see three goblins peering through the window. They’re for us.

What Happens in the Hedges ….

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The problem was I wasn’t getting any and I was pissed off by those who were —- and the timing was dreadful, 6a.m. after a heavy night.

It wouldn’t have been so bad — in fact I probably wouldn’t have heard it at all —-if I hadn’t opened the house up before hitting the sack but the bureau had predicted gully breezes during the night, just the thing to cool the house down after the heatwave. So I heard it loudly and clearly. But what was it?

I had to get up and find out. Of course, soon as I go outside, the noise stops.

So I stand still. It starts again. Meek little noises and a furious flapping . It comes from the hedge. High up.

Hey! I call out. Hey?

Just then a head pops out, glaring at me as if I am the intruder and not it.

What the fuck are you staring at? He asks.

Now I’m not in the habit of speaking to pigeons even ones that speak to me first but this one clearly has an attitude.

I get the leaf blower. It isn’t a 44 magnum but it blows them right away.

That afternoon they’re at it again, he and his paramour, on the clothes line humping amongst all the clean washing.

Hey! I say. Hey!

He looks down , glaring at me. Don’t even think about it! He says.

You’re over the top, mate, way over the top. You need taking down a peg or two.

He groans. She groans. Even I groan at the gratuitousness of such a pun.

Ahh well, pigeons will be pigeons I say and head inside for a snooze.

My Madeleine Moment

 

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Try a Madeleine, Marcel says.

It worked for me.

So I do

Opening up the family tree

As far back as my grandma

 

That little old lady

Who sat me on her lap

told me stories

In the park

& always wore widow-weeds

Midnight dark

 

who happily each Xmas,

Chopped the chooks’

heads

off

 

& we’d

watch them

run around the yard

higgledy-piggeldy

in shock.

 

do you have memories of your grandma?

 

  • photo by Alexandre Godreau from Unsplash