931


he taps his way
to the crosswalk
drags a battered cart

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6 thoughts on “931

  1. Reblogged this on richwrapper and commented:
    When first I glanced, I read “drags a battered cat,” the “r” having successfully escaped its appointed patch of retina. And, I thought, “how strange, avant garde perhaps. Glad to know it was mine own synapses and not Bruce meandering off-path. Now, however, I am distressed vice bemused. Read it the seventh time with the “r” painted out.

  2. I must admit I like “cat” better than “cart” but my journalistic ethics prevailed. Although it was more of a battered luggage dolly than a shopping cart—-back to my three line therapy, thanks, J

  3. Write both versions – the editor is off this week, I have it on no authority whatsoever! I have to agree: cat over cart makes for a really vivid image. I bark for your quag-mire!

  4. Go. Breathe. And Think of silly things, like playing leap-Marine round a K-Bay banyan or even better you puffing that outrageous pipe with a phat phrog-enigmatic grin whilst ensconced in the limbs of a different banyan o’erlooking the canal separating UH from the madhouse Kalakaua environs and a trip to Mellow Mushroom for loft-time special seasoning pizza, a gift from RappingStoneRoger. I am supposed to be bereft of family and friends this Thanksgiving: and what of it. I have my most precious gift I can give me – time. Time that I sometimes selfishloy fail to yield by virtue of another’s need. So, tomorrow morning I will be serving homeless and underemployed breakfast at a Country&Western bar called The Barn (an actual citrus fruit packing house of 1930s and 40s fame) before I go feast on football games and rice-n-beans and sourdough bread holding a crispy greens salad swimming in olive oil. Go see your grandbaby, me-lad, chortle. Know you are valued and loved!

  5. For various reasons and un-reasons I have postponed Turkey Thanks Eve to Saturday. I will set a plate for you. You are to be commended for volunteering your time and soul to serving out at the Barn. Beneath that big bushy beard a heart does beat. I find that taking three deep breaths does wonders in marksman (or marks woman) ship and stifling homicidal/suicidal urges. We are both rich in time, let’s fritter away gladly.

  6. Consider me fried, fritter-friend. The affair was wondermuss: two differint (not from Sanford but nearby) Muslim groups just about outnumbered the black Baptist church’s output of volunteers, though we pinkish people still held sway in our slow-walk wars to see who takes home the brass star. About 100 h0olunteers fed and happied about the same in number of homeless and underemployed – though a fair number (20 or so) tooled in in nice shiny rides of more than two wheels. I will have you aware, good sir, I had that offending organ removed and carry it in a very small lockbox and let it out only on days not ending in Why. You do know that since about 1980 or so it is a woman recruit who holds the PISC qual record (previous record 247, I seem to recall, with an astounding 248…but, then, the M-14 I used had Cave Bear clawmarks and I am not sure if there were any about to mar the plastic stock of what then passed as an M-16. Didja hear there’s a company out there that is making 14’s for sale to the firing public? Must be some big damn onery wabbits out there! I am librarying today to fling words at the press that have accumulated. So, sir, please ursine-with this quaint codger whose friends are about the land doing muchly of which I approve.

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