Dear Misandrist

he sat alone                                                                                                                         

at a solid whiteoak library table that seated eight                                                                       spread out before him were old advice columns and gossipandgiggle ditties

                                                                                                              a breeze came in 

through the screens  tickling the slats  his table  quietly  restlessly  rustled

                                                                                                          sounding like autumn

the newspapers and magazines smelled like late autumn leaves on an unraked lawn

Dear Misandrist:

I am writing for your advice.

My friend Wally . . .

                                            it was written with a steady hand in clean clear penmanship

over his shoulder a friend leaned in  who else could get that close   he looked  and read

                                                                                                                                     

                                                                                                                                     --  Ah 

I couldnt help but notice

he rolled on his hip and looked up into his face   -- You couldnt . . . . help . . . . but notice 

Youre lookin over my shoulder

--  Yeah well  But thats not the point

--  Lookin over my shoulder  Not the point

--  No  Dear Misandrist

--  Youre lookin over my shoulder

--  You got this stuff spread out all around you

   

     . . . . . . . . .

--  My point IS  Youre obvious  In the library  Nobodys as exposed as you

he sat back in his laddered chair

took it in 

--  Good point

--  And advice columns  Dear Misandrist

--  Yeah  Ever wonder what their history was the need was whod write in why write in what authority was theirs to offer advice that it should be heeded

--  No

--  It occurred to me 

--  Obviously 

--  Agony columns  In England agony aunts  Back to the 1800s

--  Didnt know that 

--  Something huh

--  Something       Whats with Dear Misandrist Whos Wally

--  Playing with it  Think Im tryin to offset misogynists  Dear Misogynist doesnt have the same ring as Dear Misandrist  or my rue or angst  Some ugly pricks out there pulling down a lot of men with their big lousy mouths  Thought itd be a great idea for a column

--  And your authority

--  My authority  Im on the flip side of the same coin a different mint however

--  Whats Wally get out of this

--  Wally   Wally B Caribou  From Minnesota  He outed as a stand up guy

--  You Wally

--  Could be  Figure Id posit him  maybe a hypothetical  and run at the mouth  I imagine whod write in why write in runs along the same vein as reality shmucks these days  wannabe stars  starspangled celebrities  Were wobbling on our axes  Figure a push in the opposite direction couldnt hurt  Is warranted

--  Hmm I apologize  I was inappropriate coming up over your shoulder

--  Apologeez accepted  smiling

shakes his head   --  If you dont mind lemme know how it goes

--  Could always write in  Dear Misandrist

--  Could

he departed

a slight breeze continued at the screens ruffling the pages 

                                                                                  hackles and feathers had gone flat

Dear Misandrist:

I am writing for your advice.

My friend Wally is sickened by overt misogynists who seemingly take their place, or believe it is conferred, by pious Christian words plied in churches and at the behest and authority of elder churchmen.

He believes it is fundamentalist ignorance, the belief it is God’s Word. And their women are chaste, browbeat, or worse to comply. East or West. It is the same.

                                                                                                               

                                                                              

                                                                              the ink still wet  as thought  shimmered

1645,  Wednesday,  19  2. 14               

Coboys and Inians

Coboys and Inians

no  dont    dont rub your eyes think youre reading it wrong

its read exactly as its written Coboys and Inians

I wouldnt have imagined it on my own honestly but all I ever need is just a little push in the back

not too rough

if I deem it rough I turn retaliate bad habit  grew up in a city that had a penchant for shoving people around shoving people around if they didnt move fast enough or didnt do what they were told  yesterday 
but thats another story

I struggle to respect people

hell I carry an affirmation with me

I believe it or I wouldnt carry it around with me like a fuckin albatross around my neck

   

Coleridge  Rime of the Ancient Mariner: “God save thee, ancient Mariner /From the fiends, that plague thee thus /Why look’st thou so ? /- With my cross-bow /I shot the ALBATROSS. /Ah. well a-day. What evil looks /Had I from old and young /Instead of the cross, the Albatross /About my neck was hung.”  

mine were the words of a dead Russian poet that I repeat in my head when some lump of indistinguishable shit gets in my face tries my unorthodox patience which often hangs by a thread  I aint perfect but I try to be better better than I was the day before

I visited a Mission

                    part of that inevitable California run-the-table when youve spent enough time in the state and opt into its places of interest

the Missions made up twentyone places of interest in the Golden State  my mind wonders

if you had kids in school they had to memorize their names

I didnt so all I knew was a bunch of them began with San probably a couple with La and that was the extent of my Mexican I know  Spanish but the city in me only knew Mexicans who spoke Mexican like Jews who spoke Jewish or Poles Russians Greeks Dagos no sense messing up a good thing complicating things  Im a simple guy

I visited the Mission in San Miguel  ah got it  San Miguel Arcángel besides the early 19th Century chapel is a graveyard and buried in it are more than two thousand Salinans

it wast a big cemetery  within are also large plots dedicated to families who could afford pricey tall erect marble monuments like in the big city I was from  some dead still had it better than the living 
                                                                                           as I said it wasnt a big 

the yard had a presence  a grief  sorrow  work under a yoke or with an albatross wrapped round your throat you get it

you also get by the size of it that the Salinans didnt get a good shake   God  but not a good shake

I chopped and stacked cordwood so Im a bit suspicious  the only way to fit more than two thousand souls into the ground was dig real deep  and giventheres lotsa shale  knock yourself out   or you stack them in a mass grave

theres a bitterness that invades my mouth when something aint kosher 

aint a good feeling at the Mission

theres a big marker for them

I should have been able to take some comfort from it but that was quickly effaced by a memorial marker  fashioned by two tall broad wood planks set side by side

carved into their faces were the words  sincere I believe  regarding the Natives

carved into the wood they celebrated the Inians

the Inians and Coboys 

one can suppose one hand washes the other

I . . I just turn the other cheek and snicker
 

0201,  Twosday,  18  2. 14

all i ever wanted

was to keep you in sight   incited

i wanted

but that wasnt a good reason for you

was it

what i wanted wasnt what you wanted and what you wanted is what i said i wanted

for you

when did i slip off the track

onto that short ugly siding

sliding badly

blind

thats not what i wanted

for you

not what i wanted for you sounds like a miserable excuse

though i could probably fashion worse

to get out from under all the lies ive told you

to keep you

for me

to keep you for me  sounds horrible

i didnt mean it horribly

i suppose no one in love ever means it horribly

but it is 

and in love  

is just a miserable excuse

there isnt a reason on the planet love can invoke

to wash blood off its hands  

but lovers try to convince themselves there is  

and there are scores and scores

trying to tilt the playing field to their advantage

how does advantage work 

in a loving relationship                                                                             

for you

for me for you

or for me

 0054,  Saturday, 21  9. 13