The Earth's Most Beautiful Arc

She trembles from the cold
it is chilly
and we're not wearing shirts.
I slide my left hand under her neck
as my right goes around her waist
and I pull her close to me.
As she snuggles in;
we share a moment, and then another
and then more and more
until we are flooded with moments
and we become warm to each other.
Dreams come;
sleep comes, a sweet sleep.
My right hand moves up to her hip
and then slides back to her waist
following the Earth's most beautiful arc
and then moves up searching for
a handful of breast;
and I assume the position
that I would love to be in
when death's cold kiss finds me.

Red

Your lips were red
I watched them as you smiled
and talked of this and that.
You smiled a red lined smile.

Your coat was red;
red as a flurry of rose petals.
The red accented your eyes.
Your eyes want to be blue
but they are a teal of honesty
you are a woman of mystery and honesty.

Your scarf was red.
It wound around you and held you,
furling in the wind like the cue of your name,
and the surrounding flair entwined
and covered your heart.
There was red in your cheeks from the cold outside.

Your dreams are dreamt in ruby hues.
In your dreams you live all the books you've ever read
and that I've read.
You are always the damsel
that the heroes want to save.
But you save them.
And I save you.
We save each, one unto another.

As the sun readies, it climbs into its Heavenly perch.
You don't need rose colored glasses
to ask what you saw in me.
I don't know what you saw.
I am strong, but I am weary.
I want to rest with you.
You have read my heart.

Finally. Win-Win.

Having recently, twice in the last two weeks actually, received awards from police officers for handling my vehicle so well at high rates of speed, (at least they called them citations), I think I have come up with a workable solution that keeps the public safe, and that will allow me -and you - to drive reasonably. I thought of it a few years ago when I was watching my then young sons "drive" in this large video game at the bowling alley.
Anyway, here's my idea: When you go to the Secretary of State's Office to renew your license, you have to get into one of those driving video games. Then you are allowed to drive as fast as you can. As soon as you crash, it's over. The computer then calculates at what speed you were still handling the vehicle well and proficiently. That speed is then generated on a sticker that is placed on the back of your license. At your own expense, you may also elect to put a numerical decal over your license plate. The idea is that you are legally allowed to travel at the rate of speed on your license sticker. Yours may be 87 miles per hour. Then when the officer pulls you over for doing 60 in a 25, you show your license, and he looks at the 87 on the back, smiles and tells you to have a nice day. Or he sees the 87 on the back of your car, and doesn't even bother to pull you over.

The technology is there, and in the last two weeks, I have spent enough money on these tickets to purchase the video device for our local Secretary of State's office.

So there you go. I'm an idea guy.

Lorena at Sundown

This is my favorite time of day
late afternoon
not really day anymore
but not evening either.
July is a great month
for this time of day.
There is no humidity,
a slight breeze,
and the sun plays off the trees -
the way it does
that always makes me think of the Civil War.
Union soldiers putting down for the day,
fires being built,
and hard tack and salt pork
becoming a starving man's feast.
And then as the day slips
further and further away
the tobacco and stories come out.
Now, if I'm real quiet,
I can hear a fiddle, a banjo, and a mouth harp
and the melody "Lorena" drifts over the trees
like the twisting wisps of campfire smoke
giving comfort to all the ghosts
that were here
and now
like this day
are not.


©Lyle Fales 2009

With Tim West in Mind

Okay, here goes:

It's CHAMPING at the bit, not CHOMPING at the bit

It's My old STAMPING GROUNDS, not my old STOMPING GROUNDS

Its a BALD FACE lie, not a BOLD FACE lie.

Thank you for your attention in this matter.

Three Dinosaurs in My Shower

This morning I discovered three dinosaurs in my shower.
I went to step in and there they were.
I couldn't help but notice that one was a triceratops,
one was a brontosaurus, and one
was a Tyrannosaurus Rex.
And I thought to myself
"If three different species of dinosaurs can learn to get along
well enough to shower together, then certainly the three races
of mankind
should be able to get along.
But maybe the dinosaurs were just clowning around
and gave themselves names like "Moe, Larry, and Curley"
and were trying to make me laugh by surprising me
so early in the morning.
Or maybe they were all banding together
and plotting against me like Caesar's senators
or maybe more like the Three Musketeers.
"One for all, all for one"-ing their brains out.
Or perhaps they were trying to disguise themselves as
Huey, Dewey, and Louie, or maybe
Crosby, Stills, and Nash
since the Triceratops looked somewhat like David Crosby
and did have something on it's back.
They in no way looked even remotely like the Holy Trinity
so that was out.
But maybe in a bigger sense,
on a broader scale, they were attempting to be a metaphor
for world peace -
one representing the United States, one representing Russia,
and one representing China.

But chances are none of this occurred to my six year old
who left them there from his bath last night.
He can be so silly sometimes.


©Lyle Fales 2006

Will We Eat In Heaven?

"Will we eat in Heaven" I thought
as I headed east into a sunrise.
The sky wasn't blue yet, but a pale purple
and the sun hung there
like a florescent peach.
It vaguely reminded me of a
Sutherland Brothers album cover.
Did I mention my great grandmother's
maiden name was Sutherland?
"We will eat in Heaven" I mused.
We'll eat fruit I suspect.
Fresh right off the tree.
And at night there will be ice cream
and it will cause us to lose weight.
We will eat in Heaven
because there will be joy;
and it will be social -
and as far as the eye can see
no spinach anywhere,
and broccoli will taste like chocolate chip cookies
fresh out of the oven.
We will eat in Heaven
and as we eat peaches they'll burst in our mouths
and the juice will run down our arms
and drip off our elbows,
and then will instantly dry and not be sticky.
We will eat in Heaven.
But never salad.
Not ever salad.
Not ever again.





©Lyle Fales 2009

The Joy of Cupcakes

Life is a crazy patchwork; a coat of layers and layers (not that I'm telling you anything you don't know) and sometimes it is so sad and it hurts so much. But still, there are those moments, those divine sweet moments, when the light plays on the wheat and the water of the lake sings a melody of being and lightness. And thankful thoughts race to the heavens that exclaim "God, I'm glad I'm here." It is those moments, those few precious moments, that are us, moments that deflate disaster and dissolve anxiety. And when it is our time to be tossed into that giant bowl of cosmic potato salad, we will not scorn, not regret, for we had today. And we had each other.

We had our moment.

New Phrases I Hate

At the risk of sounding like my good friend Bill Murgan, who about 10 years ago stated, "Man, I sure am getting sick of the dot com thing", here are a couple of phrases I can live without.

WEB-BASED - oh please. Only ducks and geese are web-based.

GREEN- envy is green. Money is green. Policy is not green.

CARBON FOOTPRINT - oh, shut up.

Oh and by the way NPR, who told you enlightened bunch of egomaniacs that it is CarNEGie as in Andrew CarNEGie. Get over yourselves you boatload of blowhards. How can one possibly pull off the joke "How do I get to Carnegie hall?" if one says CarNEGie? You can't. So leave it alone.