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Adventure by Ollie

A Search for Purpose in a Random World

Month

January 2016

Lemonade

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today I

drank a half gallon of lemonade

others say not too wise

down bitter why

press face against windows and doors

press face against world

act the lemon

lemons are lemons – nothing more.

interesting all bright yellow balls

bouncing face – daybreak to sunset

Ganesh is a lemon on four legs

and in a moment

all is better –

just the bitter

giving way to the sweet

express a little bit of sugar

in this place.

 

A Dog Always Remembers

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A

Dog even

Always remembers his best

Man,

 

And may often wonder what has happened to him.

Do you remember me?

Are you married? Happy? Joyful?

Maybe.

 

As I sit here petting my own

Dog, I ask the same questions

As you may sometimes ask of

Me.

New Skin

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Best if read after: Where the Knots Swim

 

after falling backward

I caress my new skin

like baby’s first word

and say, “mine, mine, mine…”

No more harsh scales –

the day is blue now

and I strip down

red bikini in the white sand

birds fly; starlings in the wind

like mother’s hair

and this is salt.

 

Neatly Drawn Valleys

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Please, forgive me

I loved neatly drawn

rivers of drunkenness

crookedly those valleys walked

between mounds rising V-shaped

his green eyes poor and beautiful

I counted my soul

planted-unharvested

all the rows – a million hopes

plowed now in the sun

accidentally a farmer

that is why.

Please, forgive me.

I loved a farmer poor and beautiful

but not returned

was I right

not was it good or nice

I loved him so

he did not love me.

Me?

Love not?  Did he? So.

Him loved I – nice or good, it was not right.

I was returned.  Not but beautiful, and poor.

Farmer – AH!

Loved I!

Me!

Forgive, please.

Please forgive me.

I loved a farmer, poor and beautiful.

His green eyes accidentally plowed

rivers of drunkenness into my soul.

I counted all the neatly drawn rows;

V-shaped mounds rising in the sun.

In between those valleys

are planted a million hopes unharvested.

That is why I walk so crookedly now.

 

 

 

 

Where the Knots Swim

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I wish I could see,

but not too much.

Not too much bills-I-

can’t-pay-sores-I-can’t-heal-skin-I-

too-many-wrinkles-I-too-flaky-dry-too-much-news-

too-bad-too-much-sad-the-text-that-screams-too-loud-

too-much-not-enough-too-many-to-do-not-done

nottoomuchbutjustenoughsight.

Just enough to feel okay down deep below,

where the knots swim; anxiety,

and the glances once taken which can’t be undone- GOD!

Dear God, there’s no rewind button

back button erase or mute button.

Give me a button

please, What is that thing there?! I don’t want to see.

Don’t want to know. I don’t know what to do with it.

Fear the worst, flex imagination. Oh God! Oh God.

Oh God I’m afraid of the mailbox, these days.

What a load of stuff to carry from mailbox to trash canister.

Is it one month? Two? Three? Three months of mail from

mailbox to trash canister – carried with eyes lifted

upwards and away. The bin’s lid opens and I:

lean back, close eyes, let go, but again

there are no brother sister arms to catch me.

Please God, please God, please God, why?

Why do they call it faith?

Mirages

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I want to understand why the road stops here,

why the waves and currents flow southeast.

Black, narrow, tar;

heat contorting the view.

Are they mirages-

these other visitors,

like Arabian tents

on a desert dune?

Orange and yellow,

the dashes dictate-

No Passing Here.

Sign says, “Mexico Beach

18 miles,”

but nothing explains.

Southeast flow currents and waves –

Why?

The road stops here.

I want to understand.

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