Tooth Chaos

My tooth is driving me insane. It cracked. I had a crown cover it. It got infected. I had a new root canal done and treated the infection.
Three rimes in the past three weeks that crown has broken off while I'm chewing. The jagged edge of the remaining tooth rubs against my tongue creating a sore. I will need a post shoved in to stabilize that new crown. The build up broke off with the tooth. My dentist says he has a backup plan. I think it involves euthanasia.
Now I place a cotton ball over the space to protect my tongue and I sound like Brando in The Godfather, which isn't necessarily a bad thing.
I'm thinking of returning to The Church and prayer.

Blossom Stamina

Blossom season is here. I must photograph every single one. They are all different. All deserve my attention. I must push people away from the trees so I can get a clear shot. Hour after hour until my arms ache.
Then I must shoot all the other flowers lining the pond at the botanical gardens. Especially the tulips. Flowers bring people together.
At one point I ran out of batteries and had to beg another fotog for his extra. She gouged me for $20. but it was worth it.
I barely have the stamina to take the train home, but if you're doing something you love, somehow you find the energy. Like kids jumping rope. Although kids don't do that anymore. They over turn garbage cans and mug the elderly. Which, in its own way, involves stamina.

Weapons

The sign said Leave Your Weapons at the Door. The hip hop concert was packed. Marlon got patted down needlessly. He saw a pile a guns and knives near the entrance. The noise inside was deafening. Too much loud talking.
Marlon hated hip hop. It killed soul music. None of them knew who Otis, Jackie, Marvin, Sam, Carla, Isaac and Jerry were. Fools. Ignorant fools.
Tonight he would strike a bloww against this nonsense that was supposed to be music. This toxic sluge of bad poetry.
Marlon took deep breaths and clenched his stomach muscles. He had eaten four large tacos before arriving. He was ready. His timing was perfect. His weapon undetectable.
He unclenched his buttocks and let loose, one after the other.
Screams, pushing, panic. Choking. Chaos.
Vengeance is mine! he shouted.
Taco revenge.
The perfect crime. Long live James Brown!

Sloppy Waitress

Tabasco sauce on her uniform.
Forgot my menu.
Chewed gum.
Made a face when I asked for water.
Spilled said water.
Suggested the tuna melt when they had no tuna.
Thought Rueben was the cook they fired.
Brought me diet soda.
Mentioned my belly fat.
Refused to serve me fries.
Tied my bib way too tight.
Made me lick honey mustard.
Had a squashed tomato stuck to butt.
Probably spit on my sandwich.
Forgot to say have a nice day.

What Do I Burn First?

That is the question.
Not my writing. Not my paintings.
Not my photographs.
Not my furniture.
Not my mattress.
Not my pets.
Definately not my fanny pack.
What I will eliminate first when it comes time to flee from the authorities are the leeches.
The people who only want favors.
Who use me to hear their complaints.
Who mock my acheivements.
Who never have my back.
Who expound on things they know nothing about.
Who disrespect my wardrobe.
Who don't get my literary references.
Who can't handle my success.
Who don't appreciate my compassion for my fellow man
Who hate my blog

Undiscovered Land

I found it on a hiking trip in West Canada. I had on my snow shoes and used ski poles to propel myself through rugged, snow covered terrain. About an hour in, I stood at the crest of a hill staring down at a green expanse of land, nothing like anything around it.
I descended and traversed this strange, bucolic field. I saw a cave. About 30m feet away from it I spotted a man exiting. He wore a suit and tie and was followed by two dozen others, similarly clad.
I overcame my shock and asked who they were. The first man spoke for the group.
We are laid off book editors, he explained. We have survived out here ever since our severance packages ran out. There is nothing to edit. The world is one giant tweet.
I nodded and assured them their secret was safe with me. I told them Phillip Roth retired three years ago and they sobbed as one.

Tweezers

Years ago, people's eyebrows were scraggly and out of control. Hairs flopped into their eyes. Insects found a home there. Itching was common, as was scratching. Children had nightmares about parents' eyebrows. Adults seemed like fierce wilderness creatures.
Frowning could blind some folks. Plucking using index finger and thumb was ineffective and painful. Infections occurred. Pus developed, which sometimes spread to eyelashes, beards and mustache. A face full of pus.
One day a little boy saw a battle between Praying Mantises for turf. Each used their pincers. The boy thought of a lobster. He found a thin piece of metal and bent it in half. He then tweezed a hair from his little sister's eyebrow. She screamed. He was disciplined. But his mother saw potential in the idea and went on to create tweezers. All women owe that family a debt of gratitude.Splinters were no longer life threatening.
But some men stubbornly let their brows grow out as a sign of masculinity. Like our President.