We’re doing it again

Zoom into the U.S. tenfold. You see wiretaps, Russians, the glint in Mitch McConnel’s eyes. The shine of Donald Trump’s shoes as it obscures the breaking of his shoestring promises.

But this is only part of the picture. What if Marine Le Pen were to win the French presidential elections? As other media outlets have commented, she will push for the exit of France from the E.U. (Frexit), which will spell its imminent demise along with severe economic reverberations across the West, and with economic reverberations come other unforeseen consequences. Because nationalism doesn’t occur in a vacuum.



Diversion becomes a way of life

Oh I don’t know
A place away from pockets of isolation
Seems like a good way to go
The water knows how to sit
Obeys commands like “fetch”
and “look reflect-y”

Fingers touch that rippling world
Wondering why nature’s cracks just appear
Without reason or
the wait for approval

Still beautiful though
Murky and teeming with life
Oh look, my cellphone is ringing

A text alert saying
My hair isn’t slicked back
But they’ll be here any minute
With microphones
And questions skirting around a bubble


50 is the loneliest number

The mighty 50th
With its fiery archipelago
And abundant transience
There’s a firm history there
Beyond the waves and sullen tourists

Kings, Republics, Annexation
Even its sister Alaska played a part
Eisenhower and statehood shook hands
“Yep, life is good” they thought

The sand always takes over
With the sun a formidable partner
If you approach something without a sense of history
A vacation spot is born


A little bit of Manchester


A comforting life along the shore
Not dull at all
Just enough novelty to feel fresh and alive
There’s a butcher eyeing a prime cut of beef
As if a deeper metallic value hides within

An accountant is honest on his taxes
And orders the swordfish
Only to send it back and ask for the oatmeal

A woman walks by
An entourage in tow
She gestures with a quick hand
And the rough looking crew gets to work
The lights turn off
Gasps and whispers

But the restaurant is just changing hands
“I’m sorry sir, we don’t carry the oatmeal anymore”
“Breakfast at all?”
“No, ‘fraid not”
“Just something extra salty. Anything, really.”

A boar’s head is brought out in flickering candlelight.
It was the accountant’s birthday.