I See You

                “Hm, that’s new,” said Kyle.

                “What’s new,” asked Jennifer.

                “That humongous eyeball in the sky. I never noticed it before,” said Kyle. He scratched at his stomach as he slowly shook the sleep from his body.

               

                Jennifer casually looked up from her magazine and towards Kyle at the apartment window.

                “Oh yeah, that. Yeah. I guess it’s been there for a while. I dunno,” said Jennifer.

                “A while,” asked Kyle, “Like, what’s a while? Like weeks or days or hours?”

                Jennifer put her magazine down on the sofa as she stood and approached Kyle at the window.

                “Like, a while. I don’t know. It was just there one day. I thought you saw it,” said Jennifer.

                “Um, no. I definitely did not see the giant, human-looking eyeball in the sky,” said Kyle.   

                Kyle pressed his face into the window and looked up at the eyeball hovering in the blue sky. The eyeball shifted its gaze back and forth, up and down in quick, furtive glances. There were no giant eyelids though. Just one giant unblinking eyeball scanning over everything.

                “I’m really sure I would have noticed that if it was there yesterday,” said Kyle.

                “We never actually went out of the apartment yesterday,” said Jennifer.

                “Right. That’s right. We just stayed in our PJ’s, watched TV, ate a bunch of junk food and watched all our TV stories. So yeah. I wonder if it was there the day before then,” said Kyle.

                Jennifer shrugged and returned to the sofa and picked up her magazine. Kyle kept looking out the window at the big eyeball.

                “Do you think it’s watching us,” asked Kyle.

                “Do you think that we’re that important,” responded Jennifer without looking away from her magazine.

                “I don’t mean us specifically, I me the general us, the royal We, us,” said Kyle.

                “Probably. What else do eyeballs do,” asked Jennifer.

                Kyle stepped back from the window, wiped at the small grease mark his nose left on the glass, and looked down at the sidewalks below. There weren’t many people out for such a nice day.

                “Was there anything on the news about the big eyeball,” asked Kyle.

                “We watched streaming shows all day yesterday so we never watched any news,” said Jennifer.

                Kyle could hear a police siren wailing in the distance, getting closer to the neighborhood, but still it was faint, maybe echoing in the opposite direction.

                “We should probably turn the News on this morning don’t you think,” said Kyle.

                “Probably,” said Jennifer.

                Jennifer tossed her magazine onto the coffee table and grabbed the remote control. She turned the TV on. The TV came on in the middle of an episode of one of the Celebrity Housewives marathons that was always on. Jennifer didn’t change the channel but stopped to watch as Madeline, the main Celebrity Housewife, described her current gardening dilemma and the upcoming birthday party for her children, Bricedon and twin sister Cadillacy, and if they were ever going to possibly complete the Ivy Walkway in time for the prince and princess parade.

                “Jennifer, c’mon. The news,” said Kyle.

                “I haven’t seen this one,” said Jennifer, “No wait. I have. They get it done in like, the nick of time. It was a whole lot of panic over nothing.”

                “Isn’t it always,” asked Kyle.

                “You just don’t get it. It’s about the personalities,” said Jennifer.

                “Yeah, and here I thought TV shows were supposed to be about substance rather than personalities,” said Kyle.

                “Okay grandpa,” said Jennifer.

                Kyle sat on the sofa next to Jennifer and playfully nudged her with his elbow. She nudged him back. It was their thing. The gentle playful nudges. Jennifer flipped the channel to the Cable news station. It was a commercial for some sort of gastric blockage medication with two older people playing tennis, then riding bikes, then hugging a puppy and laughing about it all with each other.

                “Ugh. Every time we flip to the news it’s some commercial for something terrible about getting old,” said Kyle.

                “Because old people watch the news,” said Jennifer.

                “You’re old,” teased Kyle.

                “Shut up grandpa,” said Jennifer.

                Kyle grabbed after Jennifer’s waist and started pulling him toward her on the sofa as she feigned a struggle.

                “Give Grampa a kiss. Give us a kiss, Mwah, mwah, mwah,” played Kyle.

                “Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew,” protested Jennifer and she playfully kicked and squirmed.

                “Let me take my teeth out so I can make sure this is a good old wet kiss,” said Kyle.

                He placed a sloppy wet kiss on Jennifer’s cheek as she laughed. He added a quick raspberry to seal the deal.

                “You’re a dork,” said Jennifer as she wiped her cheek.

                “I’m your dork baby,” said Kyle.

                The news finally came on after two more commercials about senior dating and something about fish oils. The commentator behind the news desk, animal name somebody, said that the giant eyeball in the sky did not appear to be a threat, but government officials were, “keeping a close eye on the situation”.  Apparently, the eye appeared over the East coast of Great Britan this morning and has been following the Sun westerly. There have been some riots, looting, murders, fires, and general chaos through the world cities but oddly enough most American cities haven’t changed much. The commentator cited the fact that everyone was just too exhausted at this point to care about one more thing, and that frankly, the eye didn’t seem all that interested either.

                “See, nothing to worry about,” said Jennifer.

                “Yeah, just a whole lot of nothing,” said Kyle.

                Kyle took the remote and flipped through the channels on the television.

                “Go back to Celebrity Housewife,” said Jennifer.

               

                Kyle sighed and changed the channel back to the celebrity Housewife marathon, wherein Madeline was still yelling at the gardeners in stilted English as she appeared to believe that yelling English at those who do not speak it will somehow magically teach them to understand it.

                “You’re so lucky I love you,” said Kyle.

                “No. You’re lucky I love you,” said Jennifer.

                “Yup,” said Kyle and he smiled at her.

                He put his arm around Jennifer and leaned back with her on the sofa as the censors bleeped out most of Madeline’s diatribe and police sirens wailed outside the apartment windows.

The Magnificence of Paperclips

The Magnificence of Paperclips

is often over-looked or taken

for granted.

They are a true engineering

marvel and should be recognized.

Before the paperclip was invented,

people used to stick a straight pin

into bunches of papers to hold them

together. Here’s a stack of paper,

with a sharp object to prick yourself on.

Along comes some genius, some

revolutionary figure, and says,

“Hey, what if we bent this sharp

pin over a few times, you know,

so we’ll stop hurting ourselves.”

I’m sure there was much mockery and derision,

told to shut up and go to hell, that things

were fine the way they were and there

was no need to change anything and

getting pricked by a pin was just how it was.

And lo, the genius did not give in to the naysayers,

they persisted in the bending, twisting and

turning of that pin until the paperclip

discovery was made. A giant leap in

paper holding technology was achieved.

Imagine the sleepless nights spent

by this engineer as they wrestled with the

very concept of holding a bunch of paper

together with a thin piece of metal

until that eureka moment was made.

One person believed that there

had to be a better way. That just doing

something just because that’s the way it was,

was unacceptable and they had to lead a

revolt. They held fast and changed the world.

With a twisted little piece of metal they

profoundly changed everything for the better,

with their dedication and steadfastness, they

taught us all we can choose progress over

stagnation. And get rid of little pricks.

Expectations?

Expectations.

We’ve all got them.

A desire for the world

to work out the way we’d like.

For events and people to be

what we want them to be.

High Expectations.

Never often met, rarely

accomplished and even more so,

rarely satisfying.

The wish, the desire, too often

larger than reality can provide.

Lowered Expectations.

Is just a disappointing phrase.

I don’t even like to mutter it under

my breath as I curse my high expectations

of moderate to reasonable desires

and wants.

No Expectations.

Is to be dead.   

Seriously, if you have no expectations,

you died and there’s nothing left

to want or desire or need even in the

most minimal sense.

General Expectations.

Just a sense that it’ll work out.

They’ll do their job.

It’ll get done.

It’s possible.

Maybe.

Shrug.

Regular Expectations.

Seems like stepping out onto

a tightrope over an active volcano,

while wild islanders chant about their

expectations that if you fall into the volcano

on the right side then the harvest will be robust,

but if you slip and fall from the left, the island is

doomed.

Poetic Expectations.

Even more foolish than regular or high

expectations.  Usually far too much to ask.

Like a kiss from your crush or being
told you're admired for who you are.
Expectantly disappointed.
Again.


-"Surely he will come?". Painting by Christen Dalsgaard. From the Hirschsprung Collection, Denmark

First Times

During this Pandemic

I have often found myself thinking

about the last time I got to

do something.

The last time I was at a

crowded bar.

The last time I was

able to hug a friend.

The last time I smiled

at someone, and they could see

my unmasked smile.

The last handshake.

The last kiss.

The last shared swig from

a bottle for the last Whiskey sip.  

Thinking about all those

last times got me wondering

about all my first times

for things. Those precious

first times by which all those

last times were measured.

I remember my first kiss on

Halloween when I was in 7^th

grade. The first time sitting with the

adults to play some poker.

The first time I felt the edge

of the satiny smoothness of

a girlfriend’s panties as we

stumbled through a first

make-out.

The first time I danced like

no one was watching.

The first big honest laugh I got from a

crowd. The first starlit night as a child.

The first nervous look into a lover’s

eyes.

Those last times for things

pale in comparison to all

those marvelous fist times.

So, maybe, it’s all the new first times

that I am really missing.

Moonlight

Moonlight streaming in

through the old bamboo blinds,

cutting a bright white line through

the dark bedroom.

This cutlass of light slices

across the bed, through my pillow

and my sleeping face.
I am awakened by moonlight shining on me.

“God damn,” I say, as I try and

figure out why this blast of moonlight

has settled upon my tired eyes as a

temporary resting spot.

“So bright,” I sleepily mutter and try

to twist myself into an unexposed

sleeping position. Yet, it’s upon me still,

this beam of moonlight, cutting sleep and dreams.

I am awake now. Squinting in the moonlight.

Trying to remember what I was dreaming about.

Wondering how the moon in its orbit around the

Earth is perfectly reflecting the sun, into my face.

“Let me sleep, moon,” I grumble.

I close my eyes in defiance of the brightness.

But I think outside myself, I imagine how I

must look from the foot of the bed.

Am I bathed in pearly whiteness like

some Renaissance portrait?

Am I a ghoulish figure transformed by the

pale moonlight in the darkness?

I’m in sleepy awe of the moon.

The unnatural brightness slowly creeping

down my bed in shifting rays filtered through

old bamboo blinds.

I roll over in my bed,

the moon now at my back,

I can return to sleep,

now that the moon is done checking in on me.   

The Void

                Jerry stepped into the empty void. Although as it was an empty void, he wasn’t exactly sure that he had stepped into it. He only knew that where he was before wasn’t where he was now. The now he was in was empty and more void-like than the clearly crowded place he’d been. So, he had to guess that he was now in the void. His sneakers squeaked as he walked forward across the floor of the void, which struck Jerry as odd that a void would have such a nicely polished white marble floor.  He wondered if there was a custodial staff that came into the void with a floor buffer and buffed the floors to such a degree that they appeared to not exist.

                His squeaking sneakers echoed through the void as he walked forward. If a void could have any direction that is. Jerry only assumed he was moving forward, but without any sign posts or road markers of any kind he couldn’t be sure if he was just marching in place or actually moving. He stopped walking and listened as the echoes of his squeaks drifted all through the void until they dissipated.  “An endless void that appears to have no end”, thought Jerry.  He remembered the stories he read as a kid about those cruel overlords of medieval myth that would hurl brave knights into bottomless pits. Even then he had his doubts about a truly bottomless pit. He couldn’t help but wonder about the construction of a bottomless pit. Did workers go into a bottomless pit never to return. They would kiss the wife and kids good-bye and go down there with their hard hats or candles on their heads, and just disappear. “Would the general contractor go down there or would he stay behind with the evil overlord so the invoice could get paid? How would they know when they were done with the bottomless pit,” wondered Jerry.

He shook his head and began his squeaking trek once more within the void.

                The void was bright but it didn’t appear to have any external light source to Jerry. He couldn’t figure out how it was so magnificently bright in the void. He remembered reading about how the human eye perceived light and color and how it’s interpreted by the brain. He thought it could be dark as pitch in the void, but his brain was just interpreting it as bright. He had way too many questions about the void. He never actually thought he’d get this far into the void since up until the moment he stepped into it; it hadn’t existed. Jerry wished his sneakers weren’t so loud. He wondered if the squeaking rubber sound bouncing through the void was ruining the actual void experience. He thought about how the sound might be causing the void to have more structure since it may be reflecting the sound and therefore giving it shape.

                Jerry stopped walking again and looked down at his sneakers as the Doppler echoes of his noisy footfalls faded. He bent over and un-tied his shoe laces. He stretched his sock feet and toes out as he removed the tight-fitting sneakers. The white marble floor was cold underfoot. It wasn’t cold enough to make Jerry shiver or react harshly. He put his sock foot onto the white marble and the sneaker vanished behind him. The void then consumed his other sneaker as he stepped out of it. They vanished without a squeak.

                Jerry started with what he perceived to be walking forward again. Each socked foot stepping silently onto the white void floor. The squeak was gone forever; replaced with a hushed sock-footed shuffle. Jerry was pleased to remove the annoying squeak from the void. It made the void seem far more void-like than it was before. He never imagined he’d be complaining about the noisiness of a void or feel happy now that the void was quieter.

                The white marble never varied in its slope, pitch, texture or smoothness. It kept expanding in front of Jerry as he walked/sock-footed shuffled. He remembered when he was a kid in his grandparent’s house and they had a lot of highly polished wood floors throughout the home. His grandmother was something of a dirt and dust eradicator. She spent the majority of her later years seemingly washing, moping, dusting and then all over again. In some constant struggle against the micro universe of dirt and dust in which she eventually lost, herself turning into the very substance she spent so much time sweeping and mopping away. The floors in the home were ice rink smooth though. Jerry could get a running start in his sock feet and practically slide from one end of the house to the other on the polished wooden floors.

                He felt like he could do that now on the void floor. He wondered if he did get a running start how far he could slide. Physics always slowed him down at his grandparent’s home. He didn’t know if those same rules applied to the void. He grew concerned as the idea of sliding endlessly through all time in his sock feet might end up being more of an embarrassment than a joy. He worried that he might see someone else in the void and he’d be unable to stop sliding in his sock feet to say hi. Jerry worried he’d just zoom on by; never knowing whom the other void dweller was.

                Jerry decided he wouldn’t do a full running start slide, but just a sort of one-foot slide so he could keep some control and stop if he had to. It would be like riding a skateboard but never bringing your left foot up onto the skateboard and just cruise along. He wanted some level of control in the void. Plus he could stop if he wanted to say hi to whomever or whatever he may come across in the void. If there was anything to come across.

                The void kept going on in all directions, as Jerry thought it probably should. It being a void it had to be both infinite and incredibly small while being expansive and all consuming all at the same time. He’d bet the other guys at the bar he could get into the void. He said that if he could, he would, and he did. Jerry wondered how he would collect on the bet now that he was in void. He wondered if since he’d conjured the void, if he could unconjured it. If he did that would it cease to exist, meaning he’d then lose the bet because he’d unconjured it out of existence? He had to prove to the other bar guys that the void did exist in order to win. Jerry wondered if his sneakers would come back into existence or if they were now lost the void.

                Jerry kept sliding on his right foot. Pushing along with his left. Passing nothing. No passing of time. Just sliding in a hush. No echoes bouncing through the emptiness. Jerry couldn’t even hear his own heartbeat in his ears, of hear himself breathing heavy. He didn’t feel tired. He didn’t feel like he was working too hard to slide himself along the white marble floor. He wasn’t sweating.

Jerry wondered about his madness. Had he gone to far. Was he in the bottomless pit, forever digging down? Jerry stopped sliding and another silence came over the void. He peered into the perception of what was ahead. He squinted his eyes to try and see if there was anything to see.

More endless white marble floors.  Jerry realized he’d never looked behind himself. Not even once the whole time he’d been in the void. He felt scared for the first time. He felt like something was behind him. A terror lurking at the rear. Was something else behind him in the void and he’d missed it. He was too worried about nothingness to be concerned with everything behind him. If there was anything behind him at all.

                Jerry shut his eyes and started to turn his head over his shoulder. He suddenly felt sweat on his forehead and a weakness in his legs. He was breathing heavy now. He was thirsty. So thirsty. He got his head positioned over his left shoulder. He was shaking.

                He opened his eyes.