Anthony Watkins's Blog, page 16

Upon this Walk

the hope and the glory

of abandoned paths

through the pines,

beneath the oaks

down the long empty streets

to a new day

a city where the sun

shines gold and casts

blue shadows across the crosswalk,

shading the pedestrian who goes there.

But I

some people wake at seven

hit the snooze

and at seven-fifteen

they drink their coffee,

wash their faces

and fly to the office

But I wake

at two or three

make my coffee

read emails

play solitaire

and walk the dog.

At five I make a big breakfast

and a second pot

and go back to bed

with a belly full

of sausage and coffee

to wake at seven.

Some of my Favorite Words

were written by dead people*
(now) in Mississippi,
ordinary words
like you and I might use
to tell a story.

 But in the hands and mouths
of Faulkner, Welty and Haynes,
they spin out like
a sparkling web from a spider’s butt.

And though I hail
from there as well
I know I will never
write my favorite words,

In a poem, a letter
or even some long novel.

*I dont think Melinda Haynes is dead.

I Woke Up this Morning

wanting to drive

through the countryside

and stop at old country stores

and pull ice cold sodas

from a drink box

pop the cap off

on the opener attached

and enjoy the moment

of a cold fizzy drink

burning down my throat

but it occurs to me

for this trip

I probably need a time machine

Instead of an automobile.

Gas, Beer, and Chicken

The neon sign

had a few lightbulbs missing

and it reminded me

of the old swinging metal sign

in front of a gas station

in south Alabama

on US Highway 231

that said, “Diesel and Seafood”

and I always imagined

that I wouldn’t like

diesel with my seafood.

And even though I prefer

seafood to chicken

and I don’t drink gas or diesel

or beer anymore

the age of the sign

makes me happy

to know this little town

I’m in hasn’t been dry

since from about the time

I was born,

these are my kind of people,

even if the pumps

have been taken out

And there’s a Tesla

charging station

where they used to be.

Vinegar is a Mild Disinfectant

And yet, I love vinegar

in pickles and olives

and even in my original recipe

 for Bens rice and patty sausage

I love the smell of bleach

and how it cleans and disinfects,

though even small amounts

I don’t like it in my food.

Like so many good things,

too much bleach

is destructive and deadly

I don’t know about

too much vinegar.

The Kitchen Spider

in our old house

we are lucky

to not have

cockroaches

And only an average

of one summer fly per year

which I usually find and swat

but over behind

the drying rack

in the curtain,

lives a spider

Who turns tiny gnats

and fruit flies

and mosquitoes

into a pile of dainty corpses

for me to wipe away

on occasion

While I am

no fan of arachnids

the kitchen spider

earns her keep.

in our old house

we are lucky

to not have

cockroaches

And only an average

of one summer fly per year

which I usually find and swat

but over behind

the drying rack

in the curtain,

lives a spider

Who turns tiny gnats

and fruit flies

and mosquitoes

into a pile of dainty corpses

for me to wipe away

on occasion

While I am

no fan of arachnids

the kitchen spider

earns her keep.

Home early afternoon

on a Wednesday

only because I can

walk the dog

and take a nap

Not even bothering

to set an alarm

wake to make a pot

of fully caffeinated coffee

Though even at two o’clock

I know I shouldn’t

At sixty-three

I spend a good bit of time

trying to take care

but there are moments

when the luxury and pleasure

Of doing outweighs

the caution required

to live forever

The dog sleeps on the couch

and the coffee

black and hot

Is good.

On this Last Cold Morning

 
of winter
in our little house
in our tiny town
in north Florida,

We sit bundled
furnaces running,

Knowing in about a week
we will again swim
in the crystal waters
others drink from.

The green paths
the fields full of sheep
and cows and donkeys
and no snow.

We drink our coffee
and plan our day
in the warm sun
of afternoon.

It is Still Hours

before daylight

I’ve been working

for a while and ready

for a break:

Maybe solitaire or spades,

another cup of black coffee

and a little ginger ale.

I am sure

you don’t mind

as you sleep on the couch

and I tap away here

while the great dog

stretches out beside you

and the electric fire warms

against the forty degrees.