But for a Pipe: A Dream

Selma Rae does pottery, and we were talking last night she said, "I do pottery, you do poetry!" She talked me into putting one of my pieces on here. This one's called:

"But for a Pipe: A Dream"

The man with the beard
stands by the steps
he thinks he looks distinguished there
elbow patches on his jacket
book in hand, pensive
but the woman can see
the weak chin he hides
and the strict limitations
by which he abides
even if he is reading
Tolstoy.

Gate's Fixed

This weblogging takes up some serious time! I know because I haven't been weblogging. But I did fix the gate out front, because I did get my hammer back, and I did get one of Selma Rae's beautiful bowls for Christmas (a blue one with a burgundy red glaze below the edge on the inside, presented filled with blood oranges and cloves wrapped in the funny papers).

I got the hammer back because I followed Selma Rae out to the car with nails between my lips and, since I'm adept, said to her that I'd only be able to kiss her goodbye for the day if I didn't have nails in my mouth, and I'd only be able to take the nails out of my mouth if I had my hammer back so I could fix the gate.

Fortunately, Selma Rae takes to my particular kind of charm and she took the nails out herself and kissed me French style right there in the driveway. Put the nails gently into my hand and handed me my hammer from the floor of the back seat of the car. Showed cleavage when she reached back for it. Now I'm not gonna get all risque here, but I think that's enough to say she is so much more beautiful to me than Gina Lolabrigida could ever be - mostly because Selma Rae is real and Gina's a phantom from a past I never really even lived in.