Sunday, June 5, 2011

Man in worn suit

Man in worn suit, where do you go? The day is too sweltering to be walking far. You trudge forward slowly, with shoulders hunched forward. I notice a look of sadness and weariness on your face.

Hang in there stranger. The days will not always be this hot. The world will not always turn its back on you. Man in worn suit, walk proud.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

I shall not jubilate

These kids.
They just don't understand.
That this was more than history.
This was fear.
This was anger.
This was confusion.
That 9/11's enduring legacy
Was to beget more violence.
What's done was necessary
But I cannot celebrate.
I can only mourn.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Falling is just floating at 125 mph

You cannot talk. You cannot hear anything but the rushing of a wind that does not cease. The lips of your mouth are peeled back to your ears. Your eyelids are glued to your forehead. The adrenaline courses through your entire body as you concentrate on keeping your hands and legs bent. They call it "good form."

You glimpse your altimeter ticking down, and pull the ripcord. Your body jerks from a horizontal position to a vertical one and all of you just stops. As you struggle to orient yourself, you realize your chute has deployed, and all the fear, all the adrenaline, all the caffeine your drank that morning comes rushing out of you in one big Indian war whoop. WHAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, you yell. 

The shortest part of your journey is done. Now you have a 10 minute ride to the ground. Like a tourist you eagerly look around and snap mental pictures of the sites. A river snaking its way through green trees that look like blades of grass. A city on the horizon. Multicolored chutes from earlier jumpers. As you near the landing zone you realize that the ground is approaching fast. Anxious to avoid any broken bones, you wait till the last second, pull on the harnesses of your parachute and lift your feet up. You slide in for a landing, and the parachute covers you like a blanket.

You will not be able to stop smiling for days. You will try to describe the experience to others. In the end, you will just settle on the term "floating." It doesn't make any sense, but somehow at 1400 feet you felt at peace. Like you were floating amidst the clouds.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

I have an active imagination

I was walking down a dimly lit trail this evening. In front of me I noticed some dark shapes that seemed to resemble humans.Which way are they going?, I wondered. I was too far away to make much out.

As I got closer I realized they were coming towards me.

I could vaguely make out two human shapes now, and what appeared to be a dog.

As I got closer, one of the human shaped objects swerved erratically along the pavement.

Hmm, maybe one human, and two dogs? One that's rather large.

As I got closer, the "dog" flapped it's huge ears.

Oh dear god I thought. What sort of monster on is ahead of me? A mini elephant? A giant bat?

As I got closer the child took his arms out of his jacket. He had been using his jacket like a cape. I walked around the mother, child and dog and silently chastised myself.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

I walked in the door and immediately went for the bottle

It was sitting on the kitchen counter. I poured the rest of its contents into one of the glasses, sat down on my couch, flipped on the TV, and smiled.

It had been a good night and I was in the mood for a nightcap of surprisingly delicious Spanish white wine.

I examined my right hand. Earlier in the evening I had cut my thumb and index finger. The blood wouldn't stop oozing and I began to worry that I'd be spending the evening at the ER instead of with her. She calmly grabbed gauze and bandaids from her purse and then helped me wrap my fingers in toilet paper. A minute later the bleeding stop. We finished cooking dinner, crisis averted.

I got up from the couch and grabbed a cupcake from the fridge. She'd baked them earlier in the day and had left me with a container full. She texted me a few minutes later. I expected this-she'd done so after our last two dates.

I told her I liked her a lot. She said the same thing. We said goodnight. I finished the last gulp of wine, curled up on my couch and drifted off to sleep with a smile on my face.

Sunday, October 3, 2010


I was feeling flaccid. No energy, no motivation. My Saturday of shopping was thrown completely out the window. I sat around my apartment completely apathetic to the world. I didn't even have the motivation to return a text from a friend about an Oktoberfest celebration taking place locally. When I did call him I was surprised to hear that it continued into the evening.

When we got their we were greeted with a carnival-like atmosphere. Spinning ferris wheels, rows of games, vendors hawking fried foods of all varieties, and of course beer. I felt my apathy melt away. Reserved Matt became Kid Matt. I giddily skipped across the grounds to where one of my friends stood. My energy surprised him. "I thought you were going to jump into my arms and I was going to have to catch you" he exclaimed. Ha, I laughed.

We quickly sought out the indulgences that are so important at a carnival. We sampled the cuisine-funnel cakes, starchy pretzels, cinnamon roasted pecans and of course sweet Oktoberfest beer. We played the games and acted like we had hit the jackpot when we won prizes of goldfish and stuffed animals. Some of us road the rides.

There was laughter. There was chicken dancing. There were posed pictures with the stuffed animals. As midnight rolled around the Oompah band finished up its last song and my friends and I began walking back to the cars. The top of my shirt had a thin layer of powdered sugar on it and my mouth tasted like cinnamon. In the car ride back I dozed, gripping a beer stein firmly with my right hand. I know that you can't ever go back and become a kid again. Their will be parts of your adult life that are always there, mixing with your kid joys. But sometimes the remixes are a hell of a lot of fun.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

The Fighter

I am the fighter
Anger building up inside me
I throw punches wildly
At any and everything
Haymakers that hit nothing
I am left exhausted
And wondering
Why my punches don't land
Why those that do are
At things that mean nothing
The prize is still out there
The knockout is still to come
Focus and it will be mine
Firm up my stance
Jab carefully
Punch relentlessly 
Hit the targets that matter
Never give up
Because I am the fighter