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Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Any Monday Night

(Baby Boom n.  a sudden, large, sustained increase in the birthrate, especially the one in the United States and Canada from the later 1940s through the early 1960s)

Lined up at the bar like crows on a fence

our conversation is muffled by the din
of others talking.  We are baby boomers at the 
neighborhood bar, single every one of us, avoiding 
another meal alone.

There is comfort in familiar faces, bustling servers, 
the smiling barkeep, clanging sounds from the kitchen, 
the smell of grease.  We nuzzle our drinks, sip slowly, 
roll the taste around in our mouthes - and sigh.

One watches “Jeopardy” with closed captioning and 
shouts out the answers.  Another bemoans the stupidness 
of others while yet another talks to the air.  Two slip 
outside to smoke.  Left to our own devices, we eat 
fried food and have another drink.

Conversation lags and we climb off our stools, deal 
with our coats and start for the door.  Along the way, 
we stop to speak to other boomers we recognize but 
cannot name.  We smile and wish each other good night 
and walk to our cars and drive home.

© 2013 cjschlottman

Sunday, March 3, 2013

Unknown Ocean

vivid colors drip from
your brush, paint my dreams bold
orange and yellow

bedclothes roll, waves on
an unknown ocean 
splash, flash rainbows
on the ceiling, walls

domino dots carpet 
the floor, drip off
the edge of my room
as i drift through space

i see light, feel warmth
against my naked flesh as 
my personal black hole
sweeps me down its cold shaft

© 2013 cjschlottman