Thought Pasture

  No fortune, only pennies exploded on the floor. It all came to a head. And her mother wouldn’t die. She shattered the water bottle filled with pennies. They were everywhere in the room. She wasn’t going to pick them up. They can clean it when I'm gone. It’s a mess. This house has never been a mess and now she was going to fill it. Everything had to be clean and contained no matter the cost. Nothing out of place. What will I do when you are gone? The fight is not over because you are gone. I will forever be haunted by your disapproval, your rigid anger. Your scathing hate. And there she was in that house. That very clean house, where disregard had been defiance. Lightning. Hate. Love. Obligation. Fear. The tedium, the rage. Surrender. But to what. The man on the mower in the middle of the street. Oblivious. The man, entitled to his mower and his movement. Another Florida asshole in my way. I honked, loudly. He took umbrage. Of course he did. He didn't realize what he released....

  Here I Am What I brought with me, was probably not the best choice. But I wanted it. And you are probably wondering, what it is I brought with me. I suppose you think I’m going to begin with a list of provisions. But the truth is I brought nothing. I came with nothing. And this body was here for me.It has been quite a curious experience. I’m not sure if I brought my breath, or if breath is what i was. Maybe just some kind of spark of humanity to inhabit this corporal self. A spark begun, or lit 63 years ago. It seems so odd that we just kind of take for granted that we exist. I’ve been getting up recently thinking how tickled I am that I am here again. Like the movie Groundhog Day, only instead of it being the same, it is a different day. But I’m the constant. And I've been this constant since I came out of my mother. But where was i before that? Or was I? And will I be Me when I leave?

  The photo in the frame was me. But I wasn’t her anymore.  That girl was 17, I’m 62.  Curious, add the numbers and both of us are 8.  My favorite number is 7. The photo in the frame is my mother. She’s gone. My mother was 22, a beautiful young woman in her Naval uniform, ready to serve her country in World War II. I was in a uniform too but it was a softball uniform from high school. I was a Wildcat and she was a WAVE.   Funny how a life can be placed in a frame hung on a wall and passed by with nary a notice.  Life in frames. 

    It was the wallpaper. He saw the baby's face. But the baby never came home. His wife never came home. All he could see was what wasn’t there anymore. He began peeling the paper off the walls. Slowly at first almost with reverence, then carelessly recklessly Until he was in a frenzy ripping paper. Steaming and ripping. Steaming and ripping. One last look in the face of the vision he had held for himself before slumping melting Like the glue that held the paper fixed to the wall. He crumbled fetal heaving in a torrent of tears Shrieking in silence bursting within. You don’t know. You don’t know until you do. And then what.

  “I Love You Cloud” By Maura K. Quinn Once upon a time, there was a fluffy white cloud, resting in a bright blue sky.  And resting on the cloud in the bright blue sky, was a cuddly little bear. One day and a beautiful day it was  the bear looking down at all the pretty green below. “Sigh”, said the bear, “I do love it in the air. But the ground is so firm and green. I wish, just once, I could tumble down on it and play like the other bears do”. The bear was so sad that he began to cry. “What’s the matter?” said the fluffy white cloud. “Oh Honey, Why are you crying? It’s a beautiful day. Look at the pretty blue sky and all the lovely green below”. “That’s just it.”, said the bear. “Well that is an odd thing to happen.”, said the cloud. “You used to be so happy on lovely days. Don’t you like the sunshine anymore?”. “No, no it’s not that at all. I love the sunshine and the beautiful blue. It’s just that it makes me sad to ...

The Distance There is a woman, standing on a ridge, looking out upon the water of Galway Bay. It seems to go on forever Mary thought. Like looking out to the future. Clouds, clear sky, currents that might take you anywhere.  And tides like emotion, washing back and forth over a heart.  A heart that had no idea what the future was.  It knew the present. And had lived through the past. And none of it seemed to fit anymore. None of it seemed to satisfy.  She wanted to just jump in and swim, fall asleep swimming and awaken in a new life. Emerge somewhere, open her eyes, and then she would know what life held. This evening though, the sun was fading. And the light became dimmer on the water. Soon the light would go with the rising of the moon.  Soon, thought Mary. Soon, I shall go with the light, and the moon would have to rise over Galway Bay all by itself. She turned and began her walk back to the small white sto...