Dog Food Voiceover

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One time I did a voiceover

A TV ad for dog food

I was the voice of a dog 

As he scoured the neighbourhood

This dog he talks to himself 

Follows his nose down the street

Every lamp post and every hydrant

Reminding him of the people he'd meet

The skid row junkies

Sweet urine on concrete

Bowery Bums draining bottles

A tasty scrap of pre-chewed meat 

I live at the level of your feet

Where your soul hits the dirty street

Every dog sniffs out his dignity

In the corners of the city

People go about their business

Places they need to be

And sometimes a friendly hand

Reaches out to comfort me

Most people are good

At least that's what I've found

From following my nose 

Really close to the ground

Everyone has their troubles

But they mean well

That's what I can say

They mostly mean well. 

At the fine art museum

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expensive paintings on the wall 

priceless comes to mind 

you browse

without touching

lean in to read the small card

bottom right

Artist Title Date

search for the story

told inside the frame 

hear echoes 

of syncopated footsteps

nervous cough stabbing 

the tense silence

and your beating heart

like something out of Poe

the presence of

anonymous

circulating beings

closing in 

and in particular 

the one standing

behind you craning

to get a view

begin to feel slightly nauseous 

paranoid

the uniformed security guard 

in the corner 

trying to look inconspicuous 

and you try  

to go about your business

but it's no use 

you've been trying  

and trying 

but just don't get it

and you need to sit down

you're exhausted 

depleted

deflated

you look around

don't understand

can no longer feign interest

and she suspects

as you do 

that you don't belong

you're a phony

inauthentic

unoriginal

worthless comes to mind

and you must leave

or risk

making a scene.

Don't Know What You're Missing

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It's one of those nights,

The clouds are dark and heavy,

There's lightning in the distance,

The air is thick and ready.

I'm thinkin about a girl,

She was smart and she was pretty,

Thought she could do no wrong,

Until she noticed me.

If you've never had your heart broken,

You don't know what you're missing.

One day she looked right through me, 

Like I was made of glass,

Knew something wasn't right,

I didn't even have to ask.

I did some heavy drinkin,

And waited for the rain,

There was lightning, there was thunder,

But the rain it never came.

If you've never had your heart broken,

You don't know what you're missing.

Sometimes I tell myself,

She took you for a ride,

Other times I want to thank her,

For what I feel inside.

Every glass I empty,

Reminds me I can shatter.

Cause a girl who I once loved,

Made me feel that I matter. 

If you've never had your heart broken,

You don't know what you're missing.

Milan Kundera (1929-2023)

 “One morning (and it will be soon), when everyone wakes up as a writer, the age of universal deafness and incomprehension will have arrived.”

― The Book of Laughter and Forgetting

Wimbledon in July

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I'm always checking the tennis scores

            these days. 

Maybe it's because

                I remember my parents

playing it for a time.

They were in their 40s

                and tennis seems to be a game

folks at mid-life like to take up

              like golf,

except unlike golf you need two

                    in tennis, it's a couples game, 

which may also be 

                why they say 'love' 

and it means you're losing.

My parents took up tennis

                        as a last ditch attempt 

to find something in common

                    after the kids had grown up.

There was a lot of back and forth

              between them, but it didn't work.

They split.

                   Now my kids are grown up.

When she was single

                    I remember mom

sitting in her bed

                        on weekends

watching tennis on TV

               a tub of Rocky Road in her lap

a big spoon in her racket hand,

                       it was Wimbledon in July, 

the manicured green,

                  players in all-white, 

Gentlemen and Ladies,

                                  royals in the stands, 

strawberries and cream,

                         the overcast dreariness 

and constant rain delays.

Mom dated quite a bit

            after dad left

but eventually gave up

                  never found her 

perfect match.

I wonder if she ever

                really thought it possible.

E Pluribus Unum

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While you are waiting

for something to happen

life happens

:

the plane's been delayed

again, and there you are 

powerless as a mob of zombies 

gawking up

at the big sign suspended

between arrivals and departures

no answers

some of you even holding flowers 

bouquets of roses and lilies 

dying by the minute

celebrations on-hold

you look around 

and suddenly 

snap out of it

:

nothing matters

and everything matters

at the same time 

like a heads/tails currency 

you've been pocketing 

your whole life 

it all makes sense now

like coinage you can spend

on anything

stamped with

E Pluribus Unum.