About writ1277

A writer - sharing observation, experience, opinion and humor.

Political hysteria

hysteria is

    contagious 

Don’t be manipulated

by the media – fear sells commercials

Stand by your own

convictions

          and remember

you have lied & been lied to before –

Remember when someone

you love asked if they look

fat in the jeans they are wearing?

 

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happening

you know who you are

       you know - what to do

we both know the difference

a commencement – a debut

a need to share

            for one who cares

and lives the dare

       i   am           there.

a mute trepidation........

hangs            on the wire

a beginning to end

                   or 

what will transpire?









“Out there things can happen, and frequently do,
To people as brainy and footsy as you.
And when things start to happen, don't worry, don't stew.
Just go right along, you'll start happening too!”
― Dr. Seuss, Oh, The Places You'll Go! 










WriteInSpace© all rights reserved. 
              Do not reprint without explicit permission.

11,185 days

of mute silence holding

you inside of my heart

Putting aside the exhaustive

supplicatory screams

and night terrors reserved for

reticent confessions.

A halo of deleterious pain recognized

by members of the club no one

asked to join

 

i hear you calling for me in the store,

in the dark, in my head...

Saddle shoes crashing down the

hardwoods

little pink mittens attached to ribbons

     on the floorboards  

Silent Night Silent Chaotic Crowds

i hate hollow ho ho ho’s

uptown girl downtown bus rides

complete cessation from  

never letting you out of my sight,

out of my arms,

yet the reverent search

for an authentic angel

vacancy void vacuity

timorous chasms

each morning,

mourning,

knowing,

you will

be

another

day

further

from

me

 

08.25.2016




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Leghorn/Foghorn and Jackie O

I have no idea why this popped into my head – true story

Accompanying, then husband on a business trip to Oscoda, Michigan (yes, there is a such place) a few decades ago, I was introduced to a business associate’s, wife – Janet. This woman was petite and extremely gorgeous from her scarlet spike high heels to her impeccability coiffed hair. Soft spoken, size 2 rings and cordial were her Jackie O attributes.  She presented herself as polished, refined and cosmopolitan.I knew her husband controlled a bunch of bucks due to the position he held for the trip’s purpose.

The purpose of my presence was to entertain Janet so the “men folk” could negotiate a multi million dollar agreement. It is a lot harder to ride a rocket when you are used to waiting for a bus, in the snow. This had to be an academy award performance.

Janet’s husband sounded like Leghorn/Foghorn when he spoke – and he talked LOUD. His suits were shark skin, cuff links were gold and his head was shiny bald. The shoes on his feet could’ve been traded in for a new Pontiac.His demeanor was southern drawl Atlanta (darlin’) and his appetite was top shelf double scotches, thrown down faster than a steel worker just off shift.

We were all staying in beautifully appointed homes on an upper echelon resort property. Activities for Janet and I included golf, tennis, the spa and salon while the wind bags blew smoke, kissed ass and impressed each other. This woman excelled, like a pro, on the courts and golf course and she never appeared aglow with sweat or had a hair out of place. I’m guessing she was approximately 15 years older than myself, at the time. My kids were toddlers and her 4 sons were in college. She informed me that their youngest son would be available to join us for dinner the last night on property.

The dinner was at the resort’s clubhouse – after-five attire – cleavage (if you have it), crystal chandeliers, lobster and champagne. Up until this point, Janet was the epitome of perfect business etiquette. Gracious with a goddamn!  In fact, my ass was aching from being such a “good business wife”. I was ready to drive my own car, eat peanut butter out of a jar, hold my kids, actually go back to work and cut loose into my usual wild child rants and antics.

During cocktails, a really ginormous young man entered the terrace. He was dressed in a golf shirt, couture’d by Omar the tent maker. This guy’s neck was bigger than both of my thighs – put together. He had to lean down and turn sideways to enter the doorway. If he wasn’t 6′ 7″ tall, I’m crazy. You could sail a family of six with cousins to Europe in his high ticket athletic shoes.

Janet stood up and in a clear and distinct voice,  proudly announced, “I’d like to introduce, my youngest child, the fruit of my loins, Joshua!”

From that point forward, all decorum got pitched. The deal got closed and I got a new set of golf clubs.

 

And the Oscar goes to……..

 

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