There’s a lot going on

Understatements make odd headlines which is to say when you live in odd times, you go with what you’ve got. My source of inspiration for today is the inspiring Heather Cox Richardson’s morning Substack.

In the mire of regime news, ours, Iran’s, Saudi Arabia’s, and so on, we find stories of Ka$h’s bourbon. It’s literally a signature brand of booze for the 9th director of the FBI. But, that is not my point right now. I focus on the irony.

Edgar Hoover, old #1 at the Bureau, came to fame when Eliot Ness and his boys destroyed liquor stashes across America. Apparently, it is no longer prohibition at the agency. (I am well aware that Americans can have their whiskey and drink it too, it’s just a full circle chuckle is all I’m saying.)

The Saudis have dropped the mic on their participation in our Iran bombings. We can’t use their air space for that, it seems. First the Gulf Golf tourneys and now this! Iran is putting out some amusing tweets. The one I read in HCR’s post today was neither blood curdling nor blood lusting. Just referred to the failure of “Operation Trust Me Bro” to win over the regime or open the Strait.

Overhead

The clouds, full of themselves, 
Puffed up like cotton candy,
Looming overhead, more tasteful 
Than that sticky carnival abomination 
The sweet powdery stuff children 
Love and adults allow 'cause it's 
A special day. The clouds are
Always special, gracefully sitting
Overhead, puffed up but not so vain
As to make more of themselves
Than is appropriate and seemly

Once upon a time

You pass, as one does, a
Youthful woman, was that
You, way back when being 
In your twenties was real
Time for you, when walking
Coatless towards a party 
Did not send shivers up
Your arm and your allies
Carried beer and you held
The pizza box, every one
In this group gleeful and
Giddy with anticipation of
A good night out. Are they
All you? Passing time past
On this Saturday street as
If yesterday can be met in
Real time, you as you were
You as you are, a weekend
Stroll into what once was

Your life

Your life falls open,
Like a suitcase, what
Did you forget to pack?
The shirts rolled into
Neat rows, shoes wrapped
Sweaters, it might be
Colder than you expect.
You've brought one very
Dressy outfit, just in
Case. It's your life and
You are right to dream
Of balls and parties, of 
A time when that dress,
Wrinkle-proof can come out
With you to dance the
Night away, let it fall
Where it may, but keep
That bag close in the
Overhead compartment, near
Enough so when your life
Unfurls like a paper fan 
You have a carry on, packed 
Carefully with what you need
You forgot nothing

Smile

Never again will your 
Smile greet me, broad
With delight, as if I 
Bring the bright light 
Home, giving me your
Sunshine for mine. It
Is a greeting I wish 
I could hold in real
Life, not just in my
Mind's eye, in memory
Never again will your
Love shine its welcome
Upon me as I turn the
Corner and catch your
Eye, as happy to see
You as to be seen and
Welcomed, a smile for
Every muttered I love
You, for each kiss you 
Accept, as pleased as 
You are pleased. Never
Again, only in memory
And dreams. I am glad 
For the memory of your 
Smile. It is all I have
This acknowledgement
Of our love.

Snow

Slowfall. Snowfall. It covers
Everything, a blanket of little
Icy crystals, falls slowly, landing 
Everywhere. It falls hard, or fast,
Blanketing your driveway and the car 
That sat on it with a heavy white
Snowfall. Softfall. Quick or light,
It covers everything in a cold 
Blanket.

April

It is April. Will we let
Chaucer forever define 
This month? Is it truly
Cruel, tempting us with
The blooms that come
From the seeds we plant
Last year, perennially
Growing in the Spring.
Is it cruel because of
Its fecundity? Does it
Scare the puritan in us?
It is April. Can we claim 
It for ourselves, reject
The harsh judgement that
Chaucer made? Glide from
This month into a rich
May, full of the colors 
The April primrose laid
Out for our delight? It
Is April, and soon its 
Promises will bring the
Lush landscape of May.

I remember this

You hated the word moist
I never knew why. Nor did
You, when asked to explain.
This is a memory this early
Morning. I also remember 
How you shuddered when I 
Described a food as silky.
Verbal quirks. Some of 
These memories are edged 
Forward by serendipity, I 
Recall, seeing Marisa Tomei
In a YouTube bit and my
Review of her in a play 
Years ago, in the first 
Row, your knees touched 
Hers in a scene in which
She sits on the stage apron.
You were delighted. She 
Waved to you at her curtain
Call for Marie and Bruce.
You were even more delighted
What will surprise me today
For you are everywhere and
I am delighted.