Ramble: Thirds

I am piling shredded
Christmas paper on the curb
when my cell rings.

We are no longer lovers;
and yet you call - as always.
predictable as January snows
whispering of ennui
and Boxing week sales.

Your voice enticing me to come.

'It'll be fun', broken words
garbled promise over
hands-free bluetooth
when your car glides to my curb
silent electric full stop.

Who am I to argue with
faux leather heated seats
and your presumption that I
would acquiesce – as always.

You take me to 'The Bay'
seeking new linens.
Leave me lingering 
between terrycloth towels
and flannel sheets.

Make me watch as you 
fondle, finger, and caress
Egyptian cotton in floral patterns
summoning memories of fertile fields
wrapped in summer heat.

My arms burdened beneath
fresh virgin bedroom sheets,
you take me to the check-out counter
-	'All Sales Final.'

Then whisk me back to my curb
just as the garbage truck rumbles slowly past

As always.

Ramble: Seconds

Primary numbers
sequentially accumulating
beneath fractal snow falls

There are no patterns
in these drifting swirls
piling high around my feet

I am not a primary number
or elsewise otherwise defined

I am the remains
of an unclaimed archaeology
lost in primordial forests

Here amongst innumerable trees
branches reach toward infinity
waving at the sole hidden sun

Sedentary sedimentary erratics
scattered over eskers and drumlins
deep in isolated thought

Here too remain I reclined
amongst boulders bigger than I.

Out of the wind finding a second breath.

Ramble: 2021 Nears the End

Growing up on the farm.
Black and white TV telling me stories via rabbit ears.
I was certain that I could be the next Tarzan of the Jungle.
The snowy screen showing me dreams I’d never create on my own.

Eventually I realized my many gaps
How my grasp of Great Ape grammar was lacking
and my basic Chimpanzee was none existent.

Still I did try to master vine swinging;
and tree-top jumping
while summoning elephants to my aid.

The elephants never came.
The ground turned out to be quite unforgiving.
Still not all was lost!

My climbing became quite excellent!
I learned how to shimmy up drain pipes to rooftops;
Discovered how to corner climb walls.

Then I discovered freedom and the ability
to sneak out my second story window in the old farmhouse;
Catwalk in the darkness to sit 50 feet above that unforgiving ground;

Above the branches;
On the peak of the roof.
There I watched the stars circling;
Shooting stars dispensing wishes.
And saw how the planets kept track of cosmic time.

I decided I wanted to be reach beyond the broadcast jungle
and become the new Carl Sagan…

I never quite made it as Carl.

In the end my dream of Tarzan
took me above and beyond the treetops.