Oh God she says
The dog has learned to spell
Of strangers is luminous, the way
We wish well for the man who lost
His car keys, the woman coming in
Out of the rain, the girl who missed
Her bus, the boy who stutters.
One afternoon at a bus stop in Ruston, Louisiana we picked up a single passenger, a huge man in a dirty plaid shirt, grease-stained khakis, and unlaced boots covered in mud.
I’ve been reading an obituary
The lonely gannet of Mana Island
Who fell in love
With a concrete statue
Love is complicated. Courtesy is simple. Start with courtesy.
Yesterday afternoon when I got home from the hospital and booted my computer, I was overwhelmed by the thousands of people who sent me messages of love and encouragement after my recent health scare.
Michael Simms: A True Story of How I Almost Became a Rock and Roll God (with special appearance by Iron Butterfly)
So there I was, jumping up and down on a king-sized bed in an expensive hotel in Miami Beach, drinking rum straight from the bottle. And right beside me, jumping up and down, playing the air-guitar and blasting out his famous song In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida, was Doug Ingle.
The woman took a small knife out of her apron pocket and held the blade to the goat’s throat. Do you want to be responsible? What’s twenty pulas to you? You are a rich American and this is just a poor Botswana goat. Have you no heart?