Machines called ninja's
were about as agile as a
flying brick. Rolling them
across asphalt parking lots
with coiled hoses piled
atop their tubs took muscle.

Me with my best friend and
wand slinging partner lugged
the gear in at the service
entrance, prepping for another
sludge sucking session.

Checked in early at the Plaza
hotel so ascent to the twenty
seventh floor must wait.
Loitered outside the aluminum
framed sliding glass gate
so my comrade could smoke.

The doors parted and exiting
from the shadow within came
a frail man clothed in pajama
pants a burgundy velvet
smoking jacket and slippers.

As he slowly shuffled past us
arm led toward the nearby
nightclub by a woman decades
his junior, I asked under my breath
is that George Burns?

Still scratching my head,
we proceeded to stuff
wet vacs on steroids into an
elevator and start the rise.
Heading to the top, boyish bouncing
jammed the lift between floors.

After a stint of claustrophobic
confinement we reached our target
and cleaned the carpet.
While loading out my partner's
light bulb brightened and he
blurted "That was Bob Hope!".

Here's hoping you have a fabulous day today, and many more ahead, Pumpi!

A poignant expression that hit's home for many, Storm.

^^^
cousins...?

Upton O. Goode

Max Dowt

An illusion's reality is often elusive. It's a good to read from you again, mig.

Thank you.

Thanks, River. I appreciate your kindness.

Layne Staley
Etta James
Tony Bennett
Vince Gill
Sebastian Bach

I appreciate the encouragement, Storm. I've shared my writing here and on some poetry specific sites for several years.

The things that I write about, and the way I express myself, don't seem to connect with enough readers for me to feel my writing is publishing worthy.

No, I haven't been published. It would be gratifying to be though.

Thanks, Julie.

I didn't make plans to stomp
twenty four more cans on Tuesdays.
Sunday dad swore I "won't see a case of beer"
Monday evening when he slams the truck door.

A tape recorded memo might've saved his larynx.

If waiting on molasses to pour is a virtue
then the brown syrup and broken jars
heaped in the church dumpster
across the alley from the bar
leave me scratching my scalp.

My bull headed sobriety does not fall
neither does the celibacy that follows
the flowering of walls.

Thirty layers of dust coat a bottle of sparkling cider
saved for my cherry popping party or funeral
whichever arrives first.

Javier Wei Wittme

Yin balanced by yang. This boldly vulnerable expression portrays facing difficult emotions with a partners support. Powerful writing, Storm.

Y'all are appreciated.

Thank you folks.

Thanks Julie, and Robin. I appreciate your consistent interest and acknowledgement.

Storm, your kind compliment is appreciated. Thank you.

An image rich expression that is a treat to read, Storm.

A curled glowworm
pokes out the gash
in night's backdrop
like the arced edge
of a crystal goblet.

Sails of silver dew
ripple the foreground
surging opal to pearl
along the pocked spine
of Luna's crescent bow.

Blankets of coal dust
drape spade clusters
glued on twig tips
stiff like arm hairs
stood up on branches.

Backyard's sleep mask
nudged to flip up
like a window shade
by the pinky fingers of
Soleil's morning rise.

Goose eggs are bursting the seams
against sage council
I stuffed 'em all into one picnic basket,
zero calorie omelettes for breakfast
lunch and supper

Piggy banked a few pennies
not buying the reach around stick,
figured if I scratched enough strangers
somebody'd have my back

Math errors leave me stomach growling
and digging for an unreachable itch
with a coat hanger wire,
a partner and bowl of vegetable stew
might hit the spot