

I was hoping for the Ace.
Hold on for the hold out.
It be-es that way sometimes.
I was hoping for the Ace.
Hold on for the hold out.
It be-es that way sometimes.
Off duty (Ring) (Buoy)
Small craft wind advisory. Lake becomes ocean. Still becomes undone. Distraction. Etch-a-sketch. Dissolve into cement. Careful not to disturb bird sanctuary behind the boom. My resolve a mirage. Wind does its rippling as wind often does. Lake contained for the most part. Boat too small for the weight of me. Sounds of sadness drop soft.
I stare wall-eyed.
A man stoops on the sidewalk outside our corner liquor store. Spare change? “Sorry.” (my standard answer)
CNBC squawks on about moral hazard. Dodges income inequality.
Virus pricing. Wally & I walk away with two-twenty dollar bottles of liquid protection. The uneven-ness of it all not lost on (us).
I am neither creole nor a juju practitioner. But I keep a laminated prayer binder-clipped to my notes.
“benevolent Marie Laveau, who draws her strength from the Loas, i trust in your protecting love & strengthening power. in your kindness, give me the fortitude to confront the misfortunes i meet & the strength to overcome my weaknesses.”
What if my misfortune is a virus floating in an air pocket, waiting to hijack me home walking the dog? What if my weakness is a strength, my immune system raging in a cytokine storm fighting to keep me alive unwittingly taking the whole of me down instead? SOS immune system distress. What if I don’t make it back?
Soap. Nothing to lose. Maybe there’s a poem in hear.