FLOGGING / OLD MAN'S GOLF

Celebrate the well hit ball
Not just the long drive

Develop the friendship
In addition to the sand shot

Not so much the score
But even more the fun

Don't expect young men to agree
Or even understand

Flogging does not belong to the PGA
It is an old man's game

Simultaneous Equations

My life is similar to an algebra class
Simultaneous equations with many unknowns

I try to be sensible
To not spend all my time trying to solve the problems

To just go along
Taking what comes

A long journey looking for love, happiness, and peace
Creating a pastiche of food, sex, reading and other pleasures

All the while staying alert for glitches
The unknowns in a prescribed but unpredictable life path

Condition Normal

It's just dawn and my shield is not yet raised
A cold front blew through an hour ago
Blowing over my garbage can and scattering trash

Just as I finished gathering the detritus
The garbage truck is rumbling down my street
With only a single, frantic man dumping the containers

It's below freezing with heavy horizontal wind-driven rain
The worker is wearing only flip-flops, jeans and a very wet t-shirt
Running, hauling, lifting, dumping, returning, freezing, repeating

I caught his eye
And shrugged my shoulders
"What in the hell are you doing?" I chastised

In turn he shrugged his shoulders
"I'm picking up your trash
These clothes are all I have" I thought he said

Anticipating the weather conditions
I'd dressed in layers
Before stepping outside my warm, dry house

My indifference barrier still not activated
I am shocked at the situation
Pain and empathy seize me

I gave him my sweater
And my favorite rain coat
And returned to my home

When I crossed the threshold
I burst into tears
Later my heart returned to condition normal