Connie enters the stage.

“Welcome to the show, Connie!”

“Thanks, Chuck! Great to be here!”

“So, twenty-one, three times divorced. Sounds like you could use a bit of luck in love.”

“I sure could, Chuck! That’s why I came to play!”

“Alright! Let’s meet who you will be playing against or possibly playing for. Next up is Rick, a twenty-four year old high school junior. Put your hands together for Rick!”

Rick enters the stage.

“So, twenty-four and you are still in high school. What seems to be the problem, Rick?”

“I don’t know. I never understand the problem, that’s the problem. Math teachers test us on different problems and I can never read the problem and that’s always one big problem right there.”

“And it says here you see love as one big problem.”

“That’s right, love’s a problem I can never figure out. For one, I don’t even know which sex I like. Like, I like women. When I’m with a woman everything feels right, her stink is a good stink, then I’m with a guy and he stinks good, too. I find being bisexual very confusing. I feel like I’m being greedy or something.”

“Sounds like you’ve been with a lot of people.”

“It’s the only way I got through any of my maths and sciences was I had chemistry with the teacher. By chemistry I mean I was boning the teacher. If I failed, it was because I wasn’t. That’s why I can’t get out of junior year, Mr. Taylor, the physics teacher is straight. I’ve probably had chemistry with half my high school teachers and Sam, the janitor, just for luck. Sure, I was passing, but I wouldn’t call it love.”

“Well, Rick, let’s see what kind of luck you’ve brought with you! And let’s see your final competitor. Hank comes to us from Gnome, Alaska. Please, give a warm greeting to Hank!”

Hank enters the stage.

“So, Hank, tell us what it’s like living in the far north.”

“It’s cold and lonely. I’ve never dated anyone who wasn’t at least distant family in my entire life. I’ve been more than just kissing cousins with most my cousins.”

“Sounds like love can only get less familiar for you, Hank. Are you ready for that?”

“I want that very much, Chuck. In some ways, it’s easy dating your cousin, I mean, in my family we’re called kissing cousins for a reason. And you only have to do one Thanksgiving, one Christmas, you know your family already loves her, seeing as they’re related to her. But, outside the family, it’s hard dating your cousin. Introducing her with the same last name, people start asking awkward questions.”

“Well, let’s see if luck be a lady or a man or a ladyman, or a pair of men tonight on Wheel of Love!”

Audience applauds.

“Alright! Now it’s time for our contestants to spin for the chance of Love and cash prizes of up to one million dollars! Ok, Connie, you have the first spin, go ahead, give the wheel a spin!”

Connie spins. The wheel eventually settles on Rick.

“What do you think, Connie? Do you want to take the chance to Love Rick?”

“No, he seems pretty dumb. Can I trade Rick in for what’s his name over there?”

“Hank? No, no, Connie. You can’t trade for Hank. Either pick it up and pick Rick up, or lose a turn.”

“Lose a turn.”

“Ok, Connie’s passing the turn on to Rick. Go ahead and give the wheel your best spin, Rick!”

“Spin it?”

“Yeah, spin the wheel.”

Rick spins the wheel. The wheel settles on “For Love or Money.”

“You’re on For Love or Money! What’s it going to be, Rick? Do you want to take your chance on making a lot of Love or making a lot of Money?”

“I came for Love, Chuck!”

“He’s going to Love it!”

The audience roars in approval.

“Ok, Rick. Since you landed on For Love or Money and you’ve chosen Love, you get first crack at either contestant or anyone in the first three rows of the audience. Who are you going to Love, Rick?”

“You, Chuck!”

“But, I’m not a prize.”

“You sure are, Chuck! Contract says that anyone on the stage is up for Love and that means you, Chuck!”

“Alright, I’ll Love you but I can’t promise I’m gonna like you. That’s the show ladies and gentlemen! Thank you for tuning in to Wheel of Love, I’m going to go see if I can Love Rick. I think the secret is in the commitment. Though, it’ll be difficult cause I’m straight and he smells like an old hockey bag. Good night!”

today was supposed to be a 10 out of 10 for me

10 out of 10.

A perfect day they promised me today.

I read my horoscope on my way to work

10 outta 10

I thought I could do no wrong

I shouldn’t even try.

Sitting here now at midnight

I wouldn’t give the day any higher than a 6.

I gave in to that simple human conceit

of trying.

I slipped on some ice

(though I was wise enough to give in to the fall)

I poured sour milk in my coffee and it took me five or six sips to figure that out

and now I’ve officially got heartburn.

I’ve had better 10s.

And it wouldn’t be so hard to take

If they hadn’t gotten my spirits up so high.

I never shoulda gotten off that bus.

your smile is my screen savor

my electric sunrise.

****

I can’t paint this sky

these rain clouds are too heavy

to be held by eyes.

****

Talk of after life

talk about rain tomorrow

I’m no weather man.

****

To see inside me

the beauty in an ashtray

the x-ray of smoke.

****

Had I married you

I’d hate you for loving me

what are you, crazy?

****

Chocolate fondu

you dip all your words in to

such delicious lies.

****

I have no book mark

so I dogear each corner

I violently read.

****

The poor early worm

he got up before the bird

look what good it did.

****

Creation needs filth

nothing grew from a clean floor

manure works best.

****

In time we will learn

nothing can last forever

even forever.

****

Since The Wall had gone up in August cutting him off from his love who lived on the other side, Juergen had taken to talking to himself. He was getting good at it, getting to the point where he could win most of the arguments. Thinking aloud helped fuel his poetry, as he could better hear the voice of his words and later weave them in to poetic tapestries.  Also, it helped him feel like he was still talking to Helen. He imagined her standing on the other side, answering back.

Juergen looked up at the snow passing over The Wall and thought he had to figure out a way to do the same. ‘Yes, I will get in to the east one way or another.’  This thought he kept to himself, being smart enough not to say thoughts like this out loud, especially in front of a guard in his tower staring down at him.

He walked along the The Wall heading south through the city. Juergen was looking for the best place to attempt his crossing. After walking an hour and more, Juergen could see there really was no good point of crossing. The bastards had erected a guard tower in sight of two more guard towers, guarded with men who were on the orders of shoot to kill.

‘Anywhere I try to climb over is going to be in full view of at least two guard towers. Climbing is hopeless.’

That is when Juergen decided to fly over in a hot air balloon.

First thing he had to do was make a hot air balloon. He wouldn’t risk asking around for one, that would only get him caught before he ever had a chance at lift off.

“No, I’ll make it,” Juergen said to his empty apartment, which was good at keeping secrets.

Over the next few months, as Winter succumbed to the warmth of Spring, then Spring gave itself up to the heat of Summer, Juergen worked to discreetly put together his homemade hot air balloon. By August, almost a year to the day they put up The Wall, Juergen was ready to try and fly over it.

He had hidden the balloon in a park about half a kilometer from The Wall. He waded through the thick bushes to his balloon wrapped under plastic tarp, camouflaged beneath a bed of branches. He tossed the branches aside, unwrapped the tarp and fired up his balloon. The balloon rose straight up through the slight clearing in the thick of trees. Juergen got up above the trees, maybe 100 meters in the air, a benevolent eastern wind helped guide the balloon towards East Germany, and Helen. His heart raced as he saw The Wall below, pointing their spotlights down to the ground, letting him fly by undetected.

He flew about a kilometer across the border before finding a patch of ground that was unoccupied. He lowered the balloon gently into the abandoned parking lot, eyes darting about looking for any sign of another set of eyes witnessing his arrival.

He got out, then dragged the basket of his balloon across the parking lot to a large mound of garbage. Juergen buried his balloon in a heap of garbage before setting off to find his love.

He had been to her apartment so many times that he could sleepwalk through these East German streets and still find his way to her door. He looked for a taxi, but found this side of the city void of taxis at three o’clock in the morning. He walked fast, though, he held back from running.

Finally he was at her door. His only fear was that she had moved. He set the fear aside as he knocked on her door. He heard footsteps. Were they hers? The footsteps stopped on the other side of the door.

“Yes?”

It was her voice, it was Helen.

“Helen! It’s me, Juergen!” he sang.

“Juergen?”

He heard her unlocking locks. She opened the door and let him in.

“Helen!” He reached for her. She tensed up, turned her head from his kiss.

“What are you doing here?”

“Who’s that, Helen?” A man’s voice called from the bedroom. Juergen’s face fell, his mouth went dry.

“Who’s that, Helen?” Juergen asked the same question, though much more meekly.

A man, wearing only his underwear stepped out into the hall.

“Who’s this?” He asked aggressively.

“Karl, this is Juergen,” Helen introduced. The men did not shake hands.

Juergen felt as though he had been shot in the chest and was numb to the pain he knew he was feeling.

“I came for you,” he mumbled to Helen.

“How did you get here? How?”

“Hot air balloon. I hid it. We can get out of here right now, tonight. Come with me and we can escape to the west,” he pleaded with her, though he knew her answer.

“I’m with Karl now. I- I didn’t think you’d- I can’t believe this. Can you get all three of us back?”

“There’s only room for two,” he said looking at her chin. Every other part of her looked the same, except her eyes. Her eyes had changed so painfully from filled with love to filled with pity. He couldn’t look at them, he had to get out from under them.

“Then I can’t go with you. I am sorry, Juergen, this is incredible of you to try and get me out, but, I love Karl and I can’t leave him.”

These were the worst words Juergen had ever heard. It was the first time he had heard her use, ‘love’ in such a cruel way.

“Then you go together. I’ll show you where the balloon is, then you two fly away.”

“Oh, Juergen, you’d do that? You are the greatest man!” Now she hugged him.

“If I’m the greatest, why are you going with him?” He asked in her embrace.

She let go. “Juergen, I’m sorry. I never thought I’d see you again, so, I met Karl and we’re  in love.”

It killed Juergen to know that he was not part of her, ‘we’.

“Ok, you don’t have to rub it in. Let’s just get you two the balloon so you can get the hell out of my sight.”

He showed them to the balloon, gave them simple instructions on how to work it, then stepped away and didn’t watch as Helen and Karl went up up up in to the night sky. And he didn’t look back when he heard the sirens and gunfire.

Juergen would spend the rest of his life in East Germany. He would barely notice The Wall that surrounded the city, for he had no desire to get out. Sometimes, he would think of Helen, and the night she flew away. With the balm of time, the sound of sirens and gunfire softened, so, too, did his thoughts that she didn’t make it. Karl always got killed, though.

falling asleep on a plane on the tarmac of Canada

to awake on the tarmac of China

forget religion, forget divine intervention

its these fingers running across this keyboard

that acts sacrosanct to the devotion

I’m supposed to feel when bowing to the alter.

That we even invented metaphor

(or did metaphor invent us?

what came first, the chicken or the omelette?)

[If you answered, 'omelette' you should probably stop reading and give reality another

shot cause you aren't ready for metaphor.]

illustrates how desperate our language is

to try and explain itself

to say

I was angry

has less sense as

I was steaming mad

see, it’s the steaming that does it

the metaphor brings reality to the words

the life to the sound

and all reality is a metaphor waiting to be plucked petal by petal

leaving truth a naked stalk to be tossed away

and doesn’t poetry prove how fickle a hold we have on the reins of reality

when we need to create a whole new beast

to run the race

we have already run

while wiping sleep from my eyes

forgotten dreams quoted in verse

I don’t remember writing.

and we’re simply spitting in the dust and remodeling His genius

to resurrect His inspiration

is like quoting the Koran in Chinese.

And at the bottom of everything

is the start of something

simply depends on which way you’re digging.

And this will make sense tomorrow

when we hit China and we’re looking up

at the sky below us.

Anything organic is sure to rot eventually

making sight, taste, touch and smell

as transitory as the baby finger of the clock

look what happens to glass left in the moody tide

sharp edges buffered to smooth paper weights

the fiber optics to record your voice

frozen notes in time

Beethoven’s 9th

like a breeze of butterflies caught in the ice

and if I hit rewind then play the ice will melt

and the butterflies will fall to the floor

yet

if we close our eyes and hold our breath

and listen to what we once said

we will fly forever.

and if you never tasted salty tears

you’d never deeply enjoy dark chocolate

like the depth of this shadow gives light to such bright ideas

free to think time may be money

when you make both by the clock

free to see how those rich in money flaunt it

like a gaggle of high school girls giggle

at the old lady’s baggage

and in the halls of high school

where everything’s ironic, sarcasm reads sincere.

And all the experience in the world can’t replicate youth

and mountains get worn down to beachfront property

that gets washed out to sea

as shadows snake through sand

as the moon spins waves crash landing on the shore

leaving nothing but sodium stains

high tide marking its territory

then receding back into the deep.

“Thomas? Thomas can you open your eyes?” Tom opened his eyes. “Good. Hello, I’m Maxwell Gitch, I’m the attorney assigned to you.”

“No attorney, no lawyer.” Tom shut his eyes and the jail cell went away. The lawyer didn’t.

“It’s the law, Thomas. You must have a state attorney to represent you, or your case cannot go trail.”

“It’s bullshit, anyway.”

“It’s the law. And I have represented guilty people such as yourself several times, Thomas, so I know how you are thinking, you’re thinking this is all uncastrated male bovine defecation, and you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m on your side, that’s why I’m on this side of the law. So could you open your eyes so we can quickly go over your case, I’ve got a dozen more to get through before the fifteen minutes are up.”

“Go away.”

“Really, legally, Thomas, I cannot go away. I’m assigned to your case which comes up next and you know we’ve only got one shot at this. Thomas, open your eyes. I’m here to help you.”

Tom opened his eyes, laying flat on his back on the floor, hands across his chest like a corpse. “You can’t help me, who are you kidding? You think you can help me?”

“It’s my job, Thomas. It’s my job to help you.”

“You can’t even see how much your job is bullshit. Have you ever gotten anyone off?”

“You mean sexually?”

“Legally.”

“Legally, sexually? All of my-”

“Legally, in court you goddamn moron, listen to yourself.”

“No, of course not, all of my clients have gotten the sentences they deserved.”

“Go away. Really, go away, you make sick, I can’t even acknowledge your presence right now, everything you represent, goddamn you, go away.”

“Listen, Thomas, you must understand this. I am your attorney, if you like it or not. And you can either lie there and keep telling me to go away, or you can work with me to prepare the best possible case for you, so we can attempt to win you your freedom.”

“I’m not going to win.”

“No, of course not, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t go through the motions.”

“I can’t work with a man like you, I need an optimistic lawyer.”

Maxwell laughed shaking his head. “Then get yourself a prosecuting attorney.”

“I’m going to say this once, and then I’m going to close my eyes and make you disappear: you are not defending me.” He shut his eyes as he shut his mouth.

Maxwell stood above him for two seconds by his timepiece, then gave up on case number AY4468728, nodding to the officer who opened the cell for him.

now mourning lost dreams

and unless the sandman puts me to sleep for good (?)

to enter the (pen?) ultimate dream world for good (?)

for now

let me put down something to at least put a dent in the Tao

to let us all know I was here now

and so are you

though not at the same time.

Yet.

I’ll see you yesterday.

See, I’m ready for the future anytime, baby

hell, I was born ready for

the past to pour into the present from the future that doesn’t know it’s been written yet

even meaning the death of my favorite songs

on the radio

leaving me driving in silence

headlights sweeping for music that hasn’t been written yet

hidden beneath the shadows

blacked out by a future playing yesterday’s favorites today

while the future plays hide and seek with the past

now was the future at the start of this sentence

coming or going before giving chance

to hit the brakes

while running right over it.

I knew better yesterday

now I can only remember remembering

I used to remember something.

I just hit something

if I don’t look back

I can pretend it was a pothole.