was thinking his head leaning against a sunwarmed bus window on his ride home

    . . . only way their sex could be better was if they were in love

could hear her Whadaya mean by that?  wideeyed blinking as she said

The fortune cookie  Recall

                             Straight forward an honest

We were making love.  blinking again

he was having sex she was making love

    then . . . had he lied to herNO

was she lying to herself

We're lovers.

    Lovers  Pleasant for sexers

Sexers?

Straight forward  Honest

Really?  Sexers?

Yes

You're a sexer?

You werent

wideeyed  You'd say you were a sexer?

I can I was

             If I hadnt I woudnt have provoked youprompted  you  to call me your lover

There’s a difference.  blinks

   Yes

          Whadid your fortune say

Mine?

Yah

Said . . you’re full of shit.

It said I was

YOU’RE FULL OF SHIT!

Nah Not me

               Tha was a lousy fortune shoud have said wed have gotten you another

Thawas an expensive dinner

For Chinese

Thursday,  7  12. 06

2025,  Monday,  25  11. 24

Bobby Ford

friends

    you make them

you lose them

a few you make love to

some you fight

    other friends are made

but few are the friends you give your back to

                                                 or they to you

who know you

                or that deepest you youll allow   because

the deepest you allow  belongs to you

    days rise

one at a time they die

                         steal away bits of your heart

but you gave themyou  

                         parceled it out

so when the last is gone

                           if you have survived them

you have remnant sparks that keep firing

like a quiet candle flame on the stub of a once proud young taper

seems theres a last friend who remembershelps  keep the others alive

                                                                              anif that survivor

is capable

           he or she will inject them into the minds of others who  unwittingly  will keep those friends alive after theyve died

   we steal scraps of our lives  piece them together   like an illfashioned comfortable quilt worn over our shoulders

they wear too

the Art of our lives become redpurpled black embers of a stubborn fire  occasionally burstingflickering   warming

                    someones mind . . .

Tuesday,  21  11. 06

1438,  Monday,  25  11. 24

Coloured people intrigued him

his intrigue is this

   to a Black man everyone else is coloured

   to an Asian everyone else is coloured

   to First People everyone else is coloured

   to a Hispanic everyone else is coloured

   to an Indigenous person everyone else is coloured

   to a White man everyone else is coloured

for some absurd reason America needs race asif one will win out in the end

                                                                                well be Mixed

he can do without the abuse of race abuse of ones sex

                                                          he sees only people

everyone  their distinct separate stories

were awash in truth and fiction and wholesale lies that havent even been scratched yet

    and he has itches

Saturday,  2  12. 06

1201,  Monday,  25  11. 24

he says write  W R I T E  or  rite  R I T E

                                              confuses others has to confirm what he means

truth of the matter is that long ago he dropped the W

when he picksup his red Mediumpoint BIC pen to rite letters all hell breaks loose

                                                                                     all bets are off

he steps aside as an interloper mediator medium lets the grease flow has no intentions of getting his feet dirty pant legs soiled as Volumes splash unimpededfollow  the paths of least resistance

    Out

           the rite looks like text madeup challenging Jackson Pollock abstracts

in there somewhere  some sense

                                     but

the recipient must be willing to sort through the mire and gore slipoff their shoes rollup their pant legs shirt sleeves blouse sleeves

                   probably best

get naked

           best to sort unimpeded by fabric that will cloak raw nerve endings recoiling from reading bones scattered on the earth reading innards of sacrificed animals like once ancient Roman Vestal Virgins did whose virginity had nothing to do with their sexuality

    he rites braves its outcome spelled O U T C U M   he witnesses remarkable utterings that otherwise might have been muttered under his breath

                                   and lost . . .

riting isnt for the faint of heart isnt for someone easily embarrassed by what flows unimpeded out of the pen

riting is for someone who prefers Lifes sheer black an white the whitest black blackest white withoutNO  wit out

wit out beginning or end

    his pen accusescries

                            You put me up to this

  

Saturday,  2  12. 06

1040,  Monday,  25  11. 24

Cream  Tales of Brave Ulysses  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WRSbjpXZYEA