Across the valley, salted with the distant sands of the Sahara, I hear the raucous song of summer’s cicadas. As a counterpoint, dry Texas mesquite trees offer a sullen crack like old men requiring their Club Soda with lemon to clear their throat, burning with age. The sun, so often serenaded for its pink bloom of morning, it’s golden orb at noon and fiery red at sunset, today, in mid-July, does not move. My shadow, so reliably robust by late afternoon, deeply engraved on the stones and grasses of the Hill country, is so pale in this terrible light, that I begin to doubt my existence. And what if that existence was in doubt?
A wasp looping, dipping in a slim glaze of water
Brown leaves hanging loosely from branches
like the hot tongues of ranch dogs.
Lone Star flags rustle on their poles.
Lemonade glasses perspire.
The wasp in the birdbath loops,
dips, sips and dies.
Zucchini fritters
Shrimp and Salads
Noodles with olive oil and Lemon dressing
Orange Layered Cake w/ buttermilk frosting
Grilled stuffed Rainbow Trout w/ sausage and crab
spaghetti and meatballs
toasted garlic bread
texas clover leafs ( Hawaiian flavor)
Ole South roasted pork belly with creole and spanish seasonings
chicken, aparagus and mushroom hot dish
Raspberry puree with club soda ginger ale and sweet white wine
Sweet white wine
mango Sweet( white wine with Mango juice)
yam yam I went to the store to buy six eggs
and twelve cans of club soda
campari tomatoes smiling at me
I love my negroni and can make a mean martini
spinach came along to make a tortilla
mariposa a butterfly
walking the street with my bag
they chant we love your tattoos
nothing like the **** we see today
o man amen club soda you taste good at two in the morning
i am going back to my dreams and tomorrow earl gray
or I'll switch to coffee with toast
all my life I twirled a question and so I peel a banana
and squeeze an avocado good night after a pee
looking for flip flop where are my sandals or sundial
as not einstein I have an accent
Tiny rockets of wetness
profusely lifting from the glass
to tickle one’s nose
© Mar 06 2010 Charles Henderson
Corbel vaulted said the bubbly flute
Only newbies take the ladders and chutes
Dash & stash the HatSheps suit!
Thirty three feet and a forty, on the one.
.
The Muse started playing to the DJ’Stone
and Jo said to Mo, please, let me cum in?
I’ll step aLong Lightly the Rivers way
aSwan is swimming in the bright of day
Two little statues sitting in the shade
Then four came too and a six was made
.
Set !n Her temple and named on her street
the woman turned saying, she likes her Scotch neat.
:)
Club Soda with your drink?
.
I’mAHopeTech… and I built it said the Pink.Pant, it’s Her…lol!
.
.
Dasher said the dancer is Nasher the romancer?
My mind sublime as a girl in her rhyme do know
Said a voice from the .. where did he go?
Rolls to Shadow, I’m sure I’m dreaming again…
I watch the blinking recycled content as it feeds my soul its cold
Menu of merchandise and recently improved products with
Blazing smiles and silicone.
Spilling it’s content into the weak-minded impressionables, bending and
Adapting to each new fanatical fad in a breathtaking display
Of sun tan lotion and enhancement pills.
Telling me to lose weight, straighten my hair, enhance my figure,
Buy a new home and go back to college while I swallow down the
Last of my club soda.
Walking reveals the result of the onslaught in trendy white sneakers
And parading paraphernalia and the next smallest music player while
I gaze at myself in reflection.
I hate who I am with a glance in the car window as I attempt to fix
My hair and make my jeans hang much lower to reveal my club soda
Tummy under a plain T-shirt.
I return to my sofa in a miniscule state wanting to hid from the world
Just so I can pretend to be alright with who I am and escape back into the
Safety of the television screen.
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