Three rats, Food Stamps, and the Opportunity of a Lifetime

I heard the little guys squealing through the night

What was I supposed to do

Nothing else I could do

I had to trap them

Get them out

I woke in the morning as I would any other

Dreading a certain task that

Lie in my certain future

However this was a task

I loathed

This is New York and I have a renter coming in later

So sometimes I just have to

Thrust each foot

One in front of the other

I peak around the corner to discover

Not one, or two

But three rats entangled in a sticky mess

A sweet concoction

A paste

Tieing mouths, feet, and bodies to the goo

They writhed, and gnawed, up and down

Breathing fast as they could

Little did I expect what I saw

But quickly I understood

It was a small family all stuck there

I have no soft spot for rats

But I did feel a bit queazy

And I do have a renter coming in this afternoon

So off they go

Somehow an article of ours had been entangled in the mess

So I slowly worked the chord out

While the rats writhed more and shouted

Their high pitched scream

This is not the city I had grown up to know

But here I am with gloved on

Trying to pull chords off rat family

Entangled on a board of sticky sweetness

Not quite sure how I got here

So I dispose of the rat family

Breathe slow

And return to my day

My wife wakes up

We talk about the rats

I was not excited about the conversation

But I had taken care of it

The next topic on our minds

Food Stamps

I never thought we were that bad off

But somehow

The rats, the rent, the life

It comes at a price

That we are just coming up a bit short of

So we talk briefly about opportunities to eat

To have more food

“Seems like we are perfect candidates”

“Yea” I respond

“I don’t see why not”

This is all to the setting of the biggest looming opportunity

We have ever had in our lives

We have dedicated our lives to our art

Somehow opportunities are sometimes presented

Rather than sought

So as I sit at the piano to rehearse

I realize

My life

Somehow

As weird and dysfunctional as it can be

Makes sense

Contoured Flowers

Studio hours
Layered with contoured flowers
Decisions scoured
Around and over hours
Speakers pushing vibrations
Ears in full salutation
Summed with amps
Knobs awaiting determination
We apply ourselves
Throughout the daytime minutes

I hope
For more synchronicity
Pulling together songs
In artistic creation

Full Tone Tight

Take it to heart
From back to start
Around the corner
Give her your heart

Avoid your head
Thoughts storms ahead
Ask questions lightly
Embrace full tone tight

Future callings
Seem uneasy ahead
The fallen words
Run your thoughts dead

Sea foam pillows
Under the Michigan willows
We fall surrendered
Under warmness tender

Reminiscent and Familiar

Coffee and smoked salmon

Lingers in my mouth

I reach for the ignition of my car

Live lived with the simple pleasures

The caffeine

Protein

Keep me alive

Awake

For trips near and far

Reminiscent and familiar

I have learned each city

By the letters that spell the name

Some far off distant

Others very much the same

The dash must be 108

Indiana summer feels so hot today

The leather scorching to touch

I grab my seat belt

Roasted in the reflecting sun

I quickly pull my hand back

Take a deep breathe

Very close to home

Yet ever far away

As the sweat drips down my face

This Memorial Day

Keeping the I can

Keeping the I can
In a world of can’t
Can lead the mislead
Push the final pedal down
Until the spring rose is dead

It is important
To believe in what you can’t
That someday you can
Be where you want
The belief
Rather than stricken grief
Must grow

People won’t think twice before
The remind you once more
That you have never done
This before
Heed only to your own calling
Hold yourself up
From falling

Let hope and belief grow
Let it take you were you want to go
Raining on summer plants
Thirst quenching with water
For your soul will grow
Just like a spring plant
When you say you can
In a world of can’t