Stuff

What do you want to do?

- Everything.

That's a lot of stuff.

- I know. That's why I do nothing.

Uncle Andy.

Uncle Andy was an expert at existential facts. 

Knew absolutely everything.

“There’s a purple aura surrounding you right now”. Is there Uncle Andy?

“Energies enter and leave this room every day”. Is that a fact?

“Your thoughts aren't in harmony with your body”. Aren't they?

Can you tell when someone is trying to be something other than what they truly are, Uncle Andy?

“Oh yes. Very  much so”.

I Walk the Line

Walk to the precipice, the edge, the line.
Stand on the verge. The free wind closing your eyes and opening your heart.
Hair blown in harmony with the waves below. Dangerous, impervious, excited.
Cleansing and exempt.
One foot forward, one foot back.
Always.
Sabotaging the honest toil of destiny.
Should have brought a hat.

Ti Ljudi

We lived on the third floor of a nine story building in Prague. The sepia skies and indeterminable afternoons of the late seventies. Karel Gott warbling his iron curtain versions of Roy Orbison hits on our crackly, tired Medium Wave radio in the kitchen. OKJets fleeing from Ruzyně to unimaginable worlds beyond my scope. Scuttling trams directed along rickety lines below - same faces, same days, same lives.
"Och, those people", my mother - raising her eyes in distaste at the stomping feet from the smaller apartments above.
'Those people'.
My mother looked down on the people above.

Late on Time Again

Tuesday morning grey and damp

Making tracks to town

Checking watches, stamping feet

The bus has let us down.

A suited man he grumbles

The lady coughs polite

Two students hide their mumbles

 “We could be here ‘til night”.

Just as our patience withers

Resenting company

Around the corner trundles

The expected 1-0-3.

“At last” and “Well now” uttered

The disgruntled share their thoughts

To a stop with a gentle stutter

Our carriage pulls up short.

The 8:05 at 8:16

Late again as it’s always been

Behind it now the 8:09

Two together, as all the time.

“After you” and “Ladies first”

Change and travel cards

The driver long since lost his thirst

We lurch the first few yards.

“Plenty of room now down the back”

Unwillingly we inch

“Excuse me” “Sorry…was that your foot?”

The internal, migrant grinch.

Bodies close and heavy

Short breaths and dampness true

Windows steamed up steady

A hand wipes one to view.

Ignoring one another

‘til we reach our point of leave

The 1-0-3 reflecting

The life so far, so weaved.

Double Double

“72 muffins. I handed out 72 muffins today. Chocolate Chip, Blueberry, Banana, Toffee and Bran. 72 of them. 25 donuts – plain, cream, chocolate. 9 Danish pastries – apple and jam. 2 cream slices and 63 coffees and 22 teas.

In one week, working eight hour shifts , that’s 360 muffins, 125 donuts, 45 Danish, 10 cream slices, 315 coffees and 110 teas.

That’s 1440 muffins, 400 donuts, 180 Danish, 40 cream slices, 1260 coffees and 440 teas a month.

With four weeks holiday time a year, that means I hand over 17,280 muffins, 600 donuts, 2160 Danish, 450 cream slices, 14175 coffees and 4950 teas per year.

Work for twenty years, that’s 345,600 muffins, 120,000 donuts, 43,200 Danish, 9000 cream slices, 283,500 coffees and 99,000 teas”.

Miriam liked to work the numbers.

It helped her feel better about leaving the job after day one.