Our Last Date

She’s late, a half-hour, Grins naughty as sin, Smells like old fish. Little Willy John’s “Fever” Hisses, fades, in and out On nighttime AM radio From Seattle. My Chevy’s front seat Rhythms ‘n blueses one last time; Bob Summerise on the low and slow From his World of Music, “To real . . . cool…

A Mother’s

Thanksgiving turkey Christmas turkey Chef Boy-Ar-Dee spaghetti meatloaf fish sticks Hamburger Helper Campbell’s chicken noodle soup on rainy afternoons grilled cheese sandwiches for Sunday lunch making me eat my peas making me eat my apple conjuring starving children in India leg of lamb with sweet mint jelly because we didn’t know arms crushing me so…

Time in a Bottle

So many years since those Madison days. Forty years. My plane lands in what’s still a small airport. No Starbuck’s. The temperature is 32 degrees. I miss those days of beer and Shakespeare. You could buy pitchers at the Rathskellar for $2.75, and $1 of that was a deposit on the pitcher. The Rathskellar is…

Local Writing

Small Kid Time Hawaii and Growing Up Local, you frequently Intersecting Circles with Folks You Meet in Longs. You have No Choice but to Follow Da Word In the Company of Strangers, Expounding the Doubtful Points with the Best of Honolulu Fiction, Kauai Tales and More Kauai Tales. Last Days Here, in the Islands Linked…

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