In my childhood neighbourhood 
there were only girls 
it seemed.

Like my sister Donna and her best friend Janise Murphy and her sister Betty.
Then there was Gay Seville down the street and Janise Cooper across the street.
I have no idea where they all went but they were my world at that time of my life.
If I find them I will add more to this site about them.  Thanks for teaching me to skip
and laugh at myself.  I will always love you. 

Here is to you girls and I hope you are all doing well [45 years later.]

Now here is a poem 
that doesn't really relate
but 
I like it.

Creation
        
On the next day which I believe was the third.
You seemed to change,
slowly I wonder what was heard.
My snoring, moaning flails throughout the night,
shouldnít suffice,
though I donít have to endure it and still come off nice.
Closer to the quest,
a yawn and slow contrived stretch can undermine the fog of forgotten dreams.
Screams coming with sunrise,
teams of predators flock to the fields,
greens and browns soften the reds,
rain helps the yields until saturation intervenes,
and its all been said before.

ďThe dead wonít knock on your doorĒ and
thatís for sure a tangent,
from the top of a twisted head,
ďThat for sure is a tangent,
it comes from rhyming.Ē, he said.

Proposing a new relationship is always difficult.
Scrapping past problems dominates doubt.
A cry,
a shout,
(Primal therapy thatís what its about.)
patience can be lacking at moments like this.
I miss good times whenever its bad.
I miss the smiles when Iím feeling sad.
I miss giving when Iíve been had.
Now I cross a barrier, 
ignore any strategic implication and 
wave to you in play.
Its always the way to your heart.
Every day is a new start.
Every night a little death.
Love is best that way.
We never have to say it  but we do.
That time like always its so true.
One and one is two.
Until two together become one,
then the fun of it makes fun of it
and one and one is one.

Time for breakfast and the philosophy has already wasted any hope of creating meaning from the dream.
Water soaking bean grinds and enculturated grain is all we need to start again these rusty dusty brains.
We all put on our pants the same rings out from the past.
I remember disputing that one leg theory because of the boy.
Its so easy to roll upon your back and do them both together.
I wonder why nobody else thought of it.
They probably did but were afraid to admit it to their piers.
Afraid of tears, jeers and laughter for years, instead of cheers for felling another stupid saying.

Hereís to praying for a sense of humour.
Hereís to graying without a tumor.
Hereís to living without a roomer you canít stand.
Hereís to holding hands.

So as we wander through our own creation letís not be too distant to do some of these plans.


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