New poem: "The Man With a Bad Back"

 

The Man With a Bad Back

 

He hurt his back trucking years ago,

and it has never healed, and now at fifty

he can’t work, can hardly walk some days,

and is having trouble with the WCB

(Workers’ Compensation Board) who

found a reason to cut off his monthly

cheque, and he has to retain a lawyer to

fight his case, which gives him new cause

for anger. But if it wasn’t this, it would

be something else, because he’s always

angry at the world. I couldn’t understand

why his life was such a mess; but one day

over coffee (he smoked non-stop), it came

 to me why nothing seemed to go his way,

and it has to do with the way he thinks. The

more I tried to reason with him, the more

unproductive it seemed to be, because he

argued to discredit, not to discover. It didn’t

matter what subject we discussed, he always

found something bad to say; but when his

eyes lit up with glee when he twisted the

argument to go his way, it hit me that his life

was a mess not because he had bad luck

or a bad back, but because he reasoned

in bad faith and karmically attracted

all the bad that came his way.

 

Composed in Nipigon, Ontario

Date unknown:1990-2000

New poem: "Granny's Visit"

 

Granny’s Visit

 

Her uncle Stavros was on night

shift, driving his company taxi, and

aunt Vera was in the washroom taking

a bath when the doorbell rang. Vera

called out and asked Cathy, her 15-year-

old niece who was visiting, to answer

the door. A few minutes later, Vera

called back: “Who was at the door?”

“Granny,” Cathy answered. “What did

she want?” Vera asked. “I don’t know,”

Cathy replied. “Where is she?” her aunt

inquired. “I don’t know,” Cathy said.

“Granny just smiled at me and went

away.” An hour later Vera got a phone

call from the nursing home: Granny

had a stroke and passed away.

 

Saturday, May 27, 2023.

Georgian Bay, Ontario

New poem: "Together Again"

 

Together Again

 

O my sweet, sweet Cathy Lynn,

we met in medias res, you in the throes

of life, your loving brother recently

passed over with cancer, your marriage

dead in the water, pacing your store

like a caged tiger; and me, at the end

of my journey of self-discovery

waiting impatiently for my new life

to begin, stepping into your corner store

to seek your bookkeeping advice; but

when I looked into your eyes, centuries

of longing possessed me, and our journey

to the promised land began, forgiving

me for betraying you for my lover.

O, what a life we’ve lived, from the day

we met to this, undoing what I did

to you in our life then, and you loving

me now together again.

 

Sunday, June 4, 2023

Georgian Bay, Ontario

New poem: "It's All About Balance"

 

It’s All About Balance

 

On her walk one evening, Cathy

met our neighbor and her three-year

old toddler riding his new bicycle,

and Cathy said, “Boy, look at you

Christopher, riding your bike without

training wheels.” And as if on cue,

Christopher proudly replied, “It’s all

about balance.” Suspecting what

he meant, Cathy inquired: “Balance?”

And with a big smile, Christopher

replied, “Yeah. I used to ride my bike

when I was big.” Cathy smiled, but

his mother quickly said, “Christopher’s

got a great imagination.” Rather than

confirm the young boy’s past-life

recollection, Cathy simply said, “Yes,

children do; don’t they?

 

Composed Friday, June 2, 2023

Georgian Bay, Ontario