Follow the beats. Tap toes, watch drinks move from the table to the balcony in timed waves, and whatever happens, don't let the keyboardist leave with any loose women, because he might not come back.
Junior couldn't see a thing through his dark shades, but Ronnie's studded jacket reflected light like a disco ball, so looking directly at him was harmful to the eyes. An elbow bumped into Junior's back, and his drink spilled up into his mustache.
"Whoop, sorry, buddy! Didn't mean to-you're one of the Tonzura Bros, aren't you?!" A short, greasy-haired man shook Junior's hand before it was open, and Junior set his drink down.
"I take it y
One less coat by the door.
Half the mail in the slot.
Double the bills.
No left-handed scissors.
New dog-feeding duties.
All of the garbage.
None of the laughter.
Still the rejected train ticket,
and a shared future splitting
along the horizon.
How Do You Say Goodnight by bonjourduck, literature
Literature
How Do You Say Goodnight
There must be something else to it, not
Simply shutting your eyes
And settling into a soft spot.
There is nothing new for the eyes
That play in the twilight--
Old trinkets line the shelves
And the moon rests somewhere
Beyond the sill, a spotlight on the yard.
You and your pillow gather dust,
One heavier for staying still,
The other rested upon too much.
A yelp echoes a mile away
Like some frightened dog
Or sleepless bed wetter.
If there were nursery bars
Just your size, insomnia would disappear
Into the pages of some fairy tale,
But instead curl into position,
Recall something wise or funny from the day,
And treat it like a
Moving subway windows
Often turn the sterile seats
Into a puzzling clash of black and white
My mind does not wish to understand.
I often sit with my hat over my head
To block out the light and dark,
But one day the L train ran beside the F
And I spotted her, looking up
From the newspaper that covered her head.
We both waved, then I thrust her a peace sign
(Or maybe it was a devil's horns?)
So she flashed me an OK sign
(Or maybe it was a playboy bunny?)
And while we couldn't hear each other's laughter,
It still resonated between the windows.
Then an unkind man pushed her aside
And stuck his abrupt finger in the air,
To which I
Follow the beats. Tap toes, watch drinks move from the table to the balcony in timed waves, and whatever happens, don't let the keyboardist leave with any loose women, because he might not come back.
Junior couldn't see a thing through his dark shades, but Ronnie's studded jacket reflected light like a disco ball, so looking directly at him was harmful to the eyes. An elbow bumped into Junior's back, and his drink spilled up into his mustache.
"Whoop, sorry, buddy! Didn't mean to-you're one of the Tonzura Bros, aren't you?!" A short, greasy-haired man shook Junior's hand before it was open, and Junior set his drink down.
"I take it y
I wrote some short stories and have been considering self-publishing short works to the Kindle store. They would be little genre pieces most likely to pop up in random ebook searches and require far less effort than mailing printed manuscripts to magazines across the country.
Comment whether this idea sounds like foolish selling out or productive branching out. Or both!
I am officially going to quit cluttering up the dining room table with the shrapnel of creative endeavors and have cleared out a proper desk space for writing and painting. There's an easel on the Christmas list that I got to handpick for my family's convenience, and that should save my back/wrist some stress.
Sketching stuff out when a thought occurs will always be part and parcel to sparking up a new piece, but having a "work station" to focus on fleshing out ideas won't hurt, either.
And keeping in line with each piece incorporating a different medium: charcoals! I can't wait to muck up a canvas with those bad boys.