The Daily Retro: Smacks Passing In The Night

Advertisements

I Do Like To Be Beside The Seaside

What is it about
that particular
beach that
makes me feel
all nine-years-old
again , I wonder ?

It’s amazing to me
that after all these
years, that a stroll
down the boardwalk
at night still makes
me every bit as
excited as it would then.

It’s not the wild
whirl of the
amusement rides,
the dark appeal of
mysterious shops,
the animation of
people all around,
.. or the ubiquitous
neon buzz of the
Mac’s Pizza signs
every block or so…..

I stop to ponder
further upon it.

Perhaps the
explanation lies
within some quiet
compromise of
sensory remembrance –

the sounds of the
great ocean swift
sweeping in and
out of that same
beach where I had
spent so many
happy hours –

my ocean –

– eyes tracing the place
on the pier where I was
gifted my very first kiss,
feeling still, the covert
tenderness of that hour,

her kiss –

– sniffing that special
fragrant balance of ocean,
sweat, and the oh-so-
sweet perfume of being
on vacation,

– the memory-tasting
of walk-around foods
of all kinds.

But there’s also
something essential
that’s not of bodily
sensation at all –

So, what is it,
I ask?

And as I pause
once more to
wonder at it,
I suddenly
perceive what
seems to be
a rift in time –

my head is spinning
and I find myself in
the strangest state
of mind –

like I could simply
leap over the railing
and dive into the
‘there and then’ –

until a blaring
Watch The Tramcar
brings me back to
the ‘here and now’.

Startled, 
and yes,
shaken a bit,
I commence
to stroll
once more,
and before long
it comes to me
what the missing
aspect was –

Freedom.

Yes, above all
those other things –

– it was the lovely
languorous freedom

freedom to walk,
or not walk –

freedom to swim
or not swim,

freedom to eat
or not eat –

freedom to be …
freedom to be me.

See ?

.

!!! HOY !!!

The Dog Days Of Summer

It’s summer time —

— that’s no
bummertime —

happy days
and sunshine

melt the icy
memory
of snow.

Ok,
so it’s
not Shelley,
I’ll admit.

More like
Steve Miller…. 

which is why
I dropped
the verse
after 4 lines.

Still,
one must admit a
grudging admiration
for the stifling heat
of summer in
contrast to the
bitter cold we had
this last winter.

If one more pocket
philosopher informs
me that it’s :
“not the heat,
it’s the humidity”
I’m gonna shove a
thermometer some
where they’re going
to have a difficult
time retrieving same.

90- 100% humidity
is, indeed, a factor
that we regularly
deal with here in the
South –

usually with dignity…

– cause we’re kinda
used to it, if such
a thing was really
possible.

At such levels,
the sweat is
sucked out of your
pores so fast it doesn’t
really have time to cool
your body —

Basically, it’s just nature’s
way of making you feel
like a damp, smelly gym
sock all summer long.

Even my dog thinks I
smell bad at this time 
of year.

And in case
you were wonderin’,
Daisie Doggie is doing
fine —

she’s got her spot picked
out on the couch, right
in front of the window
air conditioner in my 
study, where she then
simply requires a blanket
to keep her cozy but still
cool.

Ok,
a red Twizzler to
gnaw on occasionally,
two toys,
and some peace
and quiet
are also very
appreciated.

Put some Gershwin
on the stereo while
you’re at it —

–not too loud,
though.

A dog’s life.

Hey,
summer time —
where the livin’s easy.

.

!! HOY !!