MUSICAL CHAIRS

Stasis is a state 

of mind. You

don’t have to 

be confined

to the chair your

in, you know.

Where you sit 

is not some

kind of 

condemnation,

even if you do 

come late 

to the party.

Don’t just stay 

where you are 

waving 

at the folks 

at the far end 

of the table.

Get up, move, 

take another seat.

It’s a celebration 

after all. Snuggle up 

to your friend closest 

to the kitchen. What’s 

stopping you? Have

some fun. When 

the music 

starts and stops 
is all up to you.

LOSING LINES

You are chugging along,

totally in sync

with the character

you are playing,

when, without warning,

the bottom falls out,

the lines you are about to speak

aren’t there anymore.

They’ve flown the coop.

They’ve lit out for the territory.

They're gone.

So, suddenly, you are free-falling

without a safety net.

You are off-off-book.

There is no obvious next thing

to say or do.

There is only the NOW

and the how you will pull

a rabbit out of this hat.

So what do you do

when there’s nothing

but the stage you are standing on,

the glare of bright lights  

and the faces staring up at you,

watching and waiting…?

You improvise, what else!

And this shouldn’t be so hard to do,

‘cause, come to think of it,

this is what you’ve been doing

all along, every day. Every moment

is a rabbit-out-of-a-hat trick,

because you aren’t working

from a script, right?

So in a sense, your life

has been preparing you

for when you do forget your lines.

The point is:

remember each moment

is an invention,

a Pollock, a Hemingway, a Dickinson

that will bear your name.

Mind the gap. Embrace it.

Learn from it.

Because life is the lines

you write in the moment,

not the ones you’ve been rehearsing

painstakingly in front of the mirror.

WATCHING

a vulture perched

on the side of the road

is waiting

patiently waiting

for the moment

when it will turn

the dead opossum

at its feet

into its next meal

but there's no rush

there's time, just time 

like a highway

racing by

***

a homeless man

on a bus,

his mouth a cavern

of crooked teeth,

watches a young man 

for minutes

wrestle with the tangle

his earplugs have become

until he finally says

what is it about pockets 

that has that happen

I wish I knew, says 
the young man
still working his puzzle

the jagged teeth 

flash at the answer

RAIMENT*

I know a man

who will scour

sidewalk sales

and Thrift Stores

for the clothes

of dead men.

He’d much rather

walk in their shoes

than buy a new pair

of Hush Puppies.

This is his way

of stepping into

their legacy,

his form of gratitude,

for what came before

while ambling it

further down the road.

*Raiment is an old-fashioned word meaning clothing 

and that appears most notably in the Boy Scouts 

of America’s meal prayer, the Philmont Grace.

For food, for raiment,

For life, for opportunity,

For friendship and fellowship,

We thank Thee, O Lord. Amen.