poems are so dumb, but here's another one.

lemons are quite
tart, and if I could
request another fruit
I would
but ants like blackberries
and worms sometimes
infest cherries
bananas go brown
too fast
and the green ones
make my teeth
feel quite rubbery

how come
you climb trees
so easily and get drunk
on the best batch
feasting closest to the sun?
balance, the wind whispers
gravity, the branch
snaps
so lemons it is
and you will be
my sugar
plum.

Wild In Scotland

this is Jamie, our tour guide. a great story teller and a very entertaining fellow. he stopped our little bus as we crossed into the Highlands and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. He told us there was only one true whisky, single malt whiskey, and anything blended was simply horrible. we were to finish the bottle before the next stop. which we did. he was an odd sort. he would pull the bus over and say, "em, everyone out." then he charged up a hill with us scrambling to follow, and stood on a rock towering over us to tell a Scottish tale. "years and years passed and the wee Broonie returned...". the wind would be howling, rain trickling into our undies and just when we thought the story was over it continued ("years and years passed..."). he disliked the English and somedays i was certain he wasn't so fond of us. but he made a killer chicken and haggis dinner with mushroom whiskey sauce.


Eilean Dunon Castle

a wee poem

amidst terror plots
and fears of toothpaste
we packed up the remnants of your life.
we stuffed penciled christmas lists,
Austrian bus schedules,
metro timetables
and all the debris
of a well travelled life
into 40 black plastic garbage bags.

We stacked them neatly for the janitor
in the hallway closet
alongside defunct TVs,
three-legged chairs
and outdated phonebooks
and closed to door
to hide the mess.
your neighbors stopped us in the halls to say
Aye such a shame
Margaret was such a lovely lady
as if your loveliness
could be forgotten too.

At Cormie House
the ladies roll their walkers across the carpets
and ask if we are inmates too.
Meg hails me into her room,
shows me a photo of the man
she planned to marry 30 years ago
before he was killed in the war.
She puts the photo down,
picks it up
tells me about the man she planned to marry
30 years ago.
She puts the photo down,
picks it up.

Aunt Margaret,
You don't notice me,
your attention occupied by buttons
too small to manage
but we take up
after two years
exactly where we left off
with my name.
Yes, that's right, you're Erika, you say.
Sorry, I should know that you apologize
profusely.

Not all is lost.

Bonnie Scotland

the auntie is not doing well at all. she didn't recognize us when we visited her.
in fact, looking into a mirror on the wall, didn't recognize herself and marveled
that "it was such a clear picture." i don't want to get old(er). one little lady
with cute hound dog jowels and clear blue eyes rolled her walker up to a table
and asked "am i in here for life?"

read old letters sent by my parents to my grandmother. turns out i was named Sharon the first few days here on earth...

we've booked a 7 day trip (the only one available) in a tour called "Wild in Scotland" out to the Hebridean Isles. The tour is geared to 18 year olds "but some bring their parents".we will most likely be older than the parents. we were reminded to bring a towel and some money for "whisky". will do. we will stay in a "black house" a thatched cottage on the beach for two nights and a "five star" hostel which probably only means there's plumbing. But it does sound fun and considerably less expensive than other organized trips for old farts.

Oh yes, tried to go to both VB and OV's blogs from this public library but was stopped with this message:

HTTP Error 403

The page you have requested may be considered unsuitable for display.
If you feel that this is incorrect please contact a member of staff.


This event has been logged.

05/08/2006 11:08:42

URL: http://velobellababble.blogspot.com/

SF
SEX

Please clean up your acts or we'll get kicked out of here. Cheerio the noo.