Testing Times

“So Michael, the results of your tests are in and it’s not good. Your cholesterol is off the scale, blood pressure is through the roof, you have a tumor on your liver, the onset of early Alzheimer’s and that freckle on your face is a melanoma. You are also developing rabies, ebola and bird flu. Your heart is weak, show signs of type 2 diabetes and could have a stroke literally any day”.

“That’s what I was afraid of”.

Goodnight

He flicked the light unknowing

Put down his keys and hat

Took off each shoe quite slowly

On the kitchen chair he sat.

The rain outside had tapered

Patting lightly on a pane

Inside a dot past chilly

Turn up the heat again.

Dinner in the freezer

Not much of an appetite

A bare and quiet evening

Hope for hurried night.

Another day has ended

Along with its vibrant sun

The world outside has ended

A silence has begun.

Gone

So easily it falls

After climb so hard

Relief releasing form

Returning now

To practiced ways

Comfort through a norm.

Windsor Carpark

I had to look twice, without obviously wanting to look twice. One of those snap-your-head-back-into-position moves that happens after the event.

Looking in the mirror, I noticed the hair first, then the red cheeks and puffy eyes.

“Here” I said to my friend Paul when I got back to our table “Guess who I just saw coming out of a stall in the loos?”

This was three days after we beat them one all in Belfast (yes that is possible).

Paul looked up and raised an eyebrow. Never one for wasting words, our Paul.

“Billy Bingham”, I said.

Eyebrow arched closer to the hairline.

“Billy Bingham? Northern Ireland manager?”

Yeah.

“What was he doing in there?”

“Number two, I think”.

Navajo To Go

He-Who-Fights-Bears stood beside his onetime enemy and now friend, Calming Wind.

‘Bears stood over six and a half feet, broad shouldered, eyes that could turn black with a wayward thought. His solid silence in contrast to Calming Winds’ slender, lean tautness.

Together since dawn, they had gathered whatever the hours allowed them in order to see the day through. Both men aware of the unseeing eyes passing them by.

As the sun tired of watching from high and eased itself slowly to sleep, He-Who-Fights-Bears and his friend Calming Wind emptied the contents of the small leather pouch they now shared, to inspect the day’s cache.

Five dollars exactly.

Enough for two hotdogs and a chocolate milk in the 7-11. 

Strike Three

Neil had made three major decisions in his thirty five years.

One, age twenty six, was to get married. Ended in divorce.

The second, age twenty nine– obtaining a mortgage. Re-possession.

Third, last night, attempting to sever the arteries in his wrists.

Funny how failure can sometimes save your life.

Cuppa Joe

He had always been told that it was important to smile at others – make them feel nice about themselves. Coffee shop worker, bus driver, lady in the street. So he did. Sometimes they smiled back.

But he didn’t know their names. They had names, everyone has names. Other people knew his name – official people from the bank or electricity company. They knew his name and used it as a commodity.

Someone who would be happy to hear his name.

He did know one name – ‘Buddy’.

He saw Buddy one afternoon, standing on the path between the gate leading into the neighbour’s  house where he lived and the grass verge by the kerb. Buddy was just standing there. Looked like he was thinking, pondering, wondering.

Looking up, Buddy’s long tail waved gently, clearing the air for his friend to pass by. His eyes smiled.

A pat on the head is important, especially from someone whose name you know.

“Hey Buddy”

Hey Joe.