Evening is settling in.
I empty my basket at the counter.
A pint of vodka
(the kind that comes in plastic bottles),
a bottle of ’Tums’ antacids.
A box of frozen French Bread Pizza.
A jar of jalapeno peppers.
A world-weary Latino lady
checks the items,
then checks me over coolly.
Her look suggests that she knows,
has seen it all before,
probably guessing my wife is away.
“Did you find everything you need?"
“Yes Rosina.” I say reading her name tag.
Now she smiles!
I pick up my plastic bag,
as I leave I hear her call-out sardonically:
"Have a good one."
Bodega Cat protects the store
For rodents would think twice
Before they’d squeeze through cracks or door –
That goes for rats and mice.
I pass this market on my walk
Yet sometimes miss the cat.
Perhaps he’s hiding or mid-stalk –
Who knows where he is at?
At times he sits outside and stares
But leaves if someone nears.
I do not think he really cares
How haughty he appears.
Bodega cats have jobs to do;
They aren’t there to pet,
For if a mouse comes sneaking through,
He’ll perish with regret.
I empty my basket at the counter.
Six individual cans of strong imported beer.
A plastic bottle of ’Tums’ antacids.
A box of frozen French Bread Pizza.
A jar of jalapeno peppers.
The wiry cute middle-aged blond
checks the items, then checks me out.
I flash my eyebrows, sometimes it works.
Her smile suggests that she knows.
Has seen it all before.
I smile back,
signaling I know that she knows.
“Did you find everything you needed’?
“Yes Debora”. I see her name tag.
I pick up my plastic bag,
turn to leave
expecting to hear parting words.
Silence,
But in my head
I hear:
‘have a good one’.
Author: Ken Jordan
Short Story: Bodega Bay
Edited By: Sparkle Jordan
written: July/2012
It was late autumn when the
summer leaves on the trees
was just turning to a reddish
orange, and each day the
morning sunlight would become
dimmer by a mist of incoming
fog.
Down by the sea, fisherman
were out in there boats with
fish nets in tow searching for
the big catch.
In the distance, a constant
sound of a foghorn was heard
for miles, and giant waves
splashing against the channel
rocks, was a
beautiful mental painting Pablo
Picasso, would've been proud
to see-
Then suddenly, straight out the
sky appeared these tiny
Sandpipers, parading along the
shore, pecking there beaks in
the sand for food
on the beach -
It was a beautiful autumn day
at Duran Beach in Bodega Bay,
California.
Whitecaps splash against
Charcoal colored rocks that
Lie in scattered clumps
Hugging the summer shoreline,
Leaving white frothy foam
That quickly disappears as
Steadfast rocks prepare for
Their next embrace.
The ocean is calm today
And my thoughts drift
Through azure skies
To mingle with the clouds.
© Connie Marcum Wong
Dusk in Bodega Bay
Soft dunes
Like the backs of gray bulls
And Salmon Creek
Slipping into the Pacific
To the big water
The wineskins of winds
Are open fully
And the Pacific Ocean never pacific
Wages eternal war with a sloping shelf
Where pines lean frightened to the land
When you eat fish in Luka's bar
And you're happy that you're not a fish
Far away in the deep cold water
Where the sun pulled the night up
Like a huge blanket
To cover its legs